Essays on the picturesque as compared with the sublime and the beautiful; and on the use of studying pictures for the purpose of improving real landscape

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ESSAYS

ON

THE PICTURESQUE,

AS COMPARED WITH
THE SUBLIME AND THE BEAUTIFUL;

AND, ON

THE USE OF STUDYING PICTURES,

FOR THE PURPOSE OF

IMPROVING REAL LANDSCAPE.

¥

= —__—
By,UVEDALE PRICE, Esa.

——

QUAM MULTA VIDENT PICTORES IN UMBRIS, ET IN
EMINENTIA, QUH NOS NON VIDEMUS,

Cicero,
Sg aa *
VOL. Il. Zhe
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LTONDON:

PRINTED FQR J, MAWMAN, 2%, POULTRY.

1810,

PREFACH. vii

trust, I have never lost sight of in afy. part
of my work, rests the whole force of my
argument. If I have succeeded in estab«
lishing them, the system of modern Garden-
ing, which, besides banishing all picturesque
effects, has violated every principle of paiiit-
ing, is of course demolished.

All stich abstract reasoning, however,
makes but a slight impression unless it be
applied: I, therefore, took examples from
the works of the most celebrated layét out
of grounds, Mr. Brown,* and examitied

* It has been mentioned as an objection, that Mr. ie
milton and Mr. Shenstone are in reality the most celebrated
for their skill in laying out grounds, and, therefore, Pain-
shill and the Leasowes, are the true examples of the taste
of English ile The acknowledged superiority of
men of liberal education who embellished their own places,
is strongly in favour of the whole of my argument ; but has

nothing to do with the objection. Poussin and Le Sueur

were models of simplicity, and were the two most cele-

Vill PREFACE.

them, and his whole system and practice,
by the principles, which I had before ex-
plained.

This censure of modern Gardening and
Mr. Brown, drew, upon me an attack from:
the most eminent professor of the present,
time, together with a defence of his pre-
decessor. Nothing could be more fortu-
nate than such an opportunity, for dis-
cussing the practicability of what'I had
proposed, with a practical improver of high
reputation ; as, likewise, of explaining and,
applying to particular parts of improve-
ment, many positions in my first work.

..¥et still, notwithstanding the degree of

brated painters of their country: but, would it be right on
that account to say that Simplicity was the characteristic
of the French school? They were in painting, what Mr.
Hamilton and Mr. Shenstone were in gardening—excep-

tions to the national taste, not examples of it.

PREFACE.

THE three Essays which I here offer to
the public, though detached from each
other and from the Essay on the Pic-
turesque, are, in respect to the matter they
contain, and the suite of ideas they present,
perfectly connected. In all that I have
written, I have had two chief purposes in
view: the one, to point out the best me-
thod of forming our taste and judgment in
regard to the effect of all visible objects,

universally ; the other, to shew in what
- manner the principles so acquired, may be
applied to the improvement of those par-

a3

V1 PREFACE.

ticular objects, with which each man is
individually concerned. )

The first step towards acquiring an ex-
act taste and judgment in respect to visible
objects, is to gain an accurate knowledge
of their leading charaeters ; I, therefore, in |
my first Essay, traced the character of the
Picturesque, its qualities, effects, and atr
tractions, as distinct from those of the Sub-
lime and Beautiful, through the different
works of nature and art.

The next step was to shew, that not only
the effect of picturesque objects, but of all
visible objects. whatever, are to be judged
of by the great leading principles of Paint-
ing ; which princi iples, though they are really
founded in nature, and totally independent
of art, are, however, most easily and use-
fully studied in the pictures of eminent
painters. On these two points, which, I

PREFACE. Xi

middle distance, is all that is under the
control of the improver. In this Essay |
have followed the example of painters: |
have bestowed particular pains on what is
tobe viewed close to the eye, and have
worked it up more distinctly, and with
greater minuteness of detail ; in the hope
‘that I may induce improvers to follow the
same example in real scenery.

- But, besides these fore-grounds, of which
the models are in nature, there are others
manifestly and avowedly artificial ; which,
however, on that account, are the best
suited to artificial objects, and indeed the
only fore-grounds strictly in character with
them. I have, therefore, in the second
Essay, examined the character of the old
Italian Gardens, and the principles on
which, as I conceive, their excellence is
founded: I have compared them with mo-

dern gardens, and have stated what appear

xil APREFACE.

to me their respective merits and defects,
the situation in which each is most proper,
and the sort of alliance that might be made
between them. |

From the Decorations near the, House,
the transition was very natural to the house
itself, and to buildings in general. In the
third Essay, therefore, I have considered
the character of Architecture and Build-
ings as connected .with the Scenery in
which they are placed. In pursuing this
inquiry, 1 have taken my arguments and
illustrations from the works of eminent
painters: examining the style of architec-
ture and of buildings in their pictures, from
the temples and palaces in those of the
higher schools, to the cottages, mills, and
hovels of the Dutch masters, and apply-
ing the principles of the three leading
characters discussed in my first Essay,

to this particular subject; of all others

PREFACE. 1x

practical discussion in that Letter, it might
be said, even by those who are most partial
to my ideas on the subject, “ it is true
“ that you have shewn the tameness and
monotony of Mr. Brown’s made-water
and regularly sloped banks, and the su-
perior beauty and variety of those in
natural lakes and rivers; but by what
means can these last be imitated? how
can those numberless varieties, which
often owe their charms to a certain art-
less and negligent appearance, be pro-
duced by the dull mechanical operations
of common labourers? If you would
have us quit the present style, shew us
some method of practical improvement
“ which may be acted upon.” This ts
what I have attempted in the first of these
three Essays; and the detail, which, from
the novelty of the plan, I have been obliged

to enter into, must be my excuse for its

xX PREFACE.

length. I must, however, observe, that
the subject is much more comprehensive
than the title announces: the discussion is
not confined to the banks of made-water,
nor even to those of. natural rivers and
lakes, but is extended to all the natural
beauties and varieties of objects near the
eye; which therefore are classed by pain-
ters under the title of fore-ground. All,
who are in any degree conversant with the
art of painting, know of what consequence
fore-grounds are in pictures ; how interest-
ing they are in themselves, and what influ-
ence they have on the effect of the whole.
If they be of such consequence to the
painter, they are of stall greater importance
to the improver: the painter can command
the other parts of his picture, equally with
the fore-ground ; can alter, or new model
them as he likes; but the fore-ground, in

its more extended sense, or at most the

PREFACE. XV

Imagine all this in marble ever so skilfully
executed, it would be detestable,” This
certainly does tend to prove, that sculpture
cannot represent with effect, objects merely
picturesque. I do not mean to say, that
the grave dignity of that noble art does
not admit of a mixture of the picturesque ;
it is clear, however, that the ancients ad-
mitted it with a caution bordering upon
timidity. ‘The modern sculptors, on the
other hand, have perhaps gone.as much
into the other extreme; and to that we
probably owe the magnificent defects of
Michael Angelo, the affectations of Bernini,
and the pantomimes of some of his fol-
lowers. /It appears to me, that if the whole
of this be considered, it completely takes
away every objection to my use of the term ;
for if what I have stated be just, it shews
that by Picturesque is meant, not all that
can be expressed with effect in painting,

XVl PREFACE.

but that which painting can, and sculpture
cannot express. ‘This, in reality, forms a
very just distinction between the powers of
the only two arts imitative of visible ob-
jects; and the etymology of the word, as I
have accounted for it, instead of contra-
dicting, sanctions the use I have made of
it, and the distinction I have given to the
character.

The subject of modern Gardening had
been so fully discussed in my first Essay,
and in my Letter to Mr. Repton, that little
remained to be said: in this second volume,
therefore, I have seldom done more, than
make some occasional remarks upon it. It
may, indeed, be thought by many, that I
had already bestowed more time upon it,
than a particular mode of gardening in this
country would justify. On this, not im-
probable, supposition, I must say in my

defence, and in some measure, in de-

o

PREFACE. Xi

the most calculated to shew their perfect
distinction.

There are persons for whose opinion I
have a very high respect, who, though they
agree with me in the distinct character of
the Picturesque, object to the term itself;
on the ground that, from its manifest ety-
mology, it must signify all that can be
represented in pictures with effect. I had
flattered myself with having shewn, that,
according to that definition, the word can
hardly be said to have a distinet, appro-
priate meaning; by placing this matter in
a different, possibly in a more convincing
light, I may be lucky enough to obviate
their only objection. It has occurred to
me, that the term (which is in effect the
same in English, French, and Italian) may
possibly have been invented by painters to
express a quality, not merely essential to

their art, but in a manner peculiar to it : the

XIV PREFACE.

treasures of the sublime and the beautiful,
it shares in common with Sculpture; but
the Picturesque is almost exclusively its
own. <A writer of eminence lays great
stiess on the advantage which painting
possesses over sculpture, in being able to
give value to insignificant objects, and even
to those which are offensive: many such ob-
jects are highly picturesque im spite of their
offensive qualities, and in a degree that has
sometimes caused it to be imagined, that
they were rendered so by means of them.
I remember a picture of Wovermans, in
which the principal objects were a dung-
cart just loaded ; some carrion lying on the
dung; a dirty fellow with a dirty shovel;
the dunghill itself, and a dog, that from his
attitude seemed likely to add to it. These
most unsavoury materials the painter had
worked up with so much skill, that the pic-
ture was viewed by every one with delight.

PREFACE: xvii

fence of English gardening, that the present
style of laying out places is not a mere
eapricious invention, but a consistent and.
regular system, founded on the most se-
ducing qualities ; and such as are likely to
operate in ‘every age and country, where
extensive improvement in grounds may be-
come an object of attention—on smooth-
ness, continuity of surface, undulation, ser-
pentine lines, and, also, what is peculiarly
flattering to the vanity of the owner—dis-
tinctness. The whole purpose of my work
has been to shew—not that these qualities
are by any means to be abandoned or
neglected, but that there are striking effects
and attractions in those of a totally opposite
nature: and that they must be mixed with
each other in various degrees, iti order to
preduce that beauty of combination, which
18 ‘displayed in the choicest works of art
and of nature.
VOL. Il. b

XViil PREFACE.

Such a mixture so sanctioned, ap-
pears to have such obvious and superior
claims over any narrow system of ex-
clusion, that it is hard to conceive how
a system of that kind could long prevail
among men of liberal and highly cultivated,
mihds:;: yet no one can doubt the fact, who
considers the almost universal admiration
with which the exclusive display of smooth-
ness, serpentine lines, &c. in our gardens
and grounds has been viewed for more than
lialf a century : I believe, indeed, that there
are scarcely any bounds to the sort of ido-
latry which prevailed, and still prevails on
that subject... English gardening has been
considered as an object of high and pecu-
liar national pride; it has been celebrated,
together with its chief professor, by some
of the most eminent writers of this age, in
prose and in verse;.and marbles with in-

PREFACE. XIX.

scriptions, have been erected to the memory
of Mr. Brown and his works. Such, indeed;
is the’ enthusiasm of his adinirers, ‘that-
many of them, I am persuaded, would Hot
only approve of his system being extended
over another quarter of the globe, but
would wish, that ‘“ the great globe itself”
could be new modelled upon that system ;
and be made-in every part, like one of his

dressed places.* Could their wish be car-

* The late Mr. Owen Cambridge very pleasantly
laughed at Brown’s vanity, by assigniag him a higher
‘sphere for his operations than any of those I have men-
tioned. He was vapouring one day, as Mr. Cambridge
himself told me, about the change he had made in the
face of the country, aud bis hope of seeing his plans much
anore generally extended before he died. Mr. Cambridge
with great gravity said, “ Mr. Brown, 1 very earnestly
wish that I may die before you;” “ why so?” said Brown
with great surprise; “ because,” said he,” “T should

like to see heayen before you had improved it.”

b2

b. .4 PREFACE.

ried into effect, there would really be
a very curious similarity between Mr.
Brown’s finished state of the world, and
the world in a state of chaos, as described
by the poet—

Unus erat toto nature vultus in orbe.

CONTENTS.

TO VOL. IL

Essay on Artificial Water.

Pu %,
Ascowexss that might plausibly be urged in defence of Mr, 4

Brown’s made-water, and against the imitation of the banks of

natural lakes and Fivers o+ccscccceceneccccecsvascssscce one 8
In order to imitate them with effect, we must inquire not how

such banks may have looked when they were first created, but

how they were progressively formed.++++++s+eeeseerseeees J
Different accidents by which natural lakes are formed—Pieces

of artificial water made by means of a head, of digging, or of

both -- Oe ee ee ee ee eeweeree Pern eeseereve

Their form best indicated by the water itself--+.++++.+eeeeeees 11
How natural lakes, which originally had no varieties, may have
acquired them, and how similar varieties may be prepared

by art +++++ees: bab Matte EE ee ee dada tran?
What would probably be the process of an improver who wished

to prepare them where the banks were naturally uniform++-- 15
The two principal changes, are by removing earth from, or by

placing it upon, or against banks-~the first considered-++-++ 17

XX CONTENTSe

Remarks on digging out the soil previous to its being disposed of 22
The banks of a natural river and its varieties analyzed-+-+++++++ 23
Such an analysis recommended from the example of painters:-++ 25
Method of imitating such a bank by the placing of the mould -- 27
And of other objects: +++ +++++-++++ era (alle olor Seb wieeis eee ceeees 98
Of the beauty of tints—those of stone and of broken soil--- +--+ - 30
All varied banks, not merely those of water, should be studied by
the painter and the improver --+----- ss deeseccesecvcee sees 81
Reflections on fore-grounds—their general effect, and their
SEED afte tice de Hele Clalateleln |e gine 6 ip)n eo ple piste inten iets Kids Seen --- 83
Arguments for enriching the banks of made-water------+-++- : 35
Different characters of banks in natural rivers considered, with
their degrees of richness and variety-+:--- sg eet cin ge cemes sr» 36
Those varieties have never been attempted in made-water—rea- .
sons for thinking they might be imitated with success--+:++++ 38
Instance of the close affinity between landscape-painters and
landscape-gardeners ++ -+++-+-+- Pe ee ie hoe pert
vind between those of Mr, Brown’s school and house-painters--.- 39
Objection to the style I have recommended, from the danger of
its producing absurdities—that objection obviated-++-++-+-+ 40
The combinations that might be formed by men of real taste---- 42
Mr. Brown’s banks though tame, not simple ---------- Mette We
Reasons for having recommended enrichment, and not simplicity 46
Charaeter of simplicity---++-++++++++ ta os ey ee os wemelee beaker 47,
Supposing the country te he perfectly flat, how are.the. banks to
be FOrMEM Pete e cree cece eee e eee eee nett eect en eeeenteeenns 48
Reflections on Mr. Brown’s method in such situations--++-++--. 49
On continuity of surface in ground, aud on the separation and

connection occasioned by water and its banks-+++++++-+++++ 50

sp

CONTENTS. xxiii

The strong attraction of water, and its influence on all around it.
Its position of great consequence in the view from the house-+ 51

The banks of a bare natural river, compared with those of Mr.
Brown’s—also, supposing them both to be planted and left to

grow Wild «+ ++ veces eee eeens 295 ON Ge Be > wg «Kiexwidy "55

The varieties in the rich but flat banks of a natural river ex-

amined -.. «+ - de'stateters 0 a eal o'e rahe worale wise ble wlalp dude sie ve-: 56
They all may, and should be imitated «...-+++-+- weet eeeeees 59
On planting the banke of water--.+++-+seeerreeee eee eeewreces 60
On artificial hillocks, and swellings of ground.---+++- eee e eens 71
Quotation from Mr. Mason, én that subject ++++-++++* peeeeee ibid.
Ditto from the Abbe de Lilic- +... 2. eee cece cette eee eteteceens 75

On the forms of artificial pieces of water—Reasons for imitating

a lake rather than a river----- wees weer coger ec ensecenen 76
Excellent hints may be taken from the forms of water in gravel-

pits = gph ecaier aa niw wits wacttheane.s 50 feneeceetconccececacees 78
Effect of the proportion of objects to the size of water+++++-+- 80
And of their disproportion—Small pools in wooded scenes-- 81
Quotation from Mr. Mason----+-- pie VaR bea ti fet a ic aah ibid.
On the revival of tints in water—Note on the use of water in

pictures soem ee eeeere sence eee sereeecnes beteeeee neal ITI SS
Note on a picture of Titian-++++++++ Ldgptonodte. pelanyub. ibid.
Many banks spoiled by raising water too high—the effect of

torrents descending into a flat—quotation from Macchiavelli 85
On islands:::+-- Sccle an S.b cite slike PP Po eh a i I IG
Those in Lake Superior—Note from Morse’s' American Geo=

graphy -+sreseseeeees Bo Pe MNS ove 500 BE MATER A ORE Se,
The use of islands in disguising the appearante of the head---- 88

* Their own ‘intrinsic beauty ses ese ees eeereeree ered eceseesees ibid.

XAIV CONTENTS.

Of forming and planting islands ---+--.+-+++++ Serene nee eeees 89
The trees most proper for islands--.-+--++++++++ te teeesees - 92
Caution with regard to firs and trees of a light green-.-----+++ 93
Of water plants ---.... oF sien ha ae Sip ih ate ape eel See Se - 94
Comparison between a piece of water and a lawn—between
islands, and clumps and thickets---.- vee ee eeeeee peenees ose 96
Circular islands in the centre-..-- pores esarpese op eenesetces ibid.
On flowing lines and curves-.---++ state ioe Ris He ais bte fe igle ee Me 97

Insensible transitions, not lines, the cause of beauty in land-

SCAPE tes er ero cese recess nseecsererssecene pee eee ewe weaeee 93
The great defect of Mr. Brown’s system-+-+++++++++++s0ee -» 100
Distinction between a beautiful and a picturesque river-:---- *> 102

Essay on Decorations.

Difficulties in treating the subject, and whence. they arise--+- 108
The great defect of modern gardening an affectation of simpli-

city—Mr. Mason’s address to Simplicity objected to-++++++- 109

The characters of Richness and Simplicity in painting---+-+-- 110
Architecture, even of the simplest kind, requires the accompa-
BUMERES GREE = 5550.0 ote c lo cis ieaia's aie a aienieis Brace wae 5 wosig ae 112
Gardens in Italy; their general character-+++++-+++++- eetees + ibid,
Their character when kept up, and when neglected----+++++- 145,

Vanbrugh’s answer when consulted about the garden at Blen-
De ee ee
An account of an old-fashioned garden, which I myself destroyed,
and regret-<+++++s cece eiajaph etv\ac>efeiareje o/ejale oop cserecereree 118
Arguments in favour of the old Italian gardens, from the cha-
racters of the artists employed to adorn them-+t+++-+.+++ *+ 198

The principles on which their excellence is founded-+++++-+++ 130

=

CONTENTS. xxv

Anecdote of Lord Stair—Note—Gravel and terrace walk com-

pared ee ee ee ee ecccesess 133

The irregular enrichments of a broken bank, compared with the

regular ones of an ornamented parapet-----++++++ vecereeee 188
Tole in the lion’s skin, Note mares isa hides cial cccccncsassen 199

The varieties in broken ground serve as indications where to

plant with effect: in a uniform bank no motive of preference 141
Leonardo da Vinci, Note-+++++++++++: SSE EO binw oi disisoee, SRR
The use of a mixture of stone and wood-work in the fore-

grounds of every style of building—trellisses- +--+ +++-+++-+++* 142
Toleration in gardening—that of the Romans in religion--+--- 144
The introduction of Dutch gardening probably banished the

Italian style +++ ++ +s seen eee wi nadeh a leanne Re eG
Quotation from Pontanus, Note ---<+--+.+ss++- see eesceeseeee 146
Revolution in gardening and politics compared--++++-++++++++ 147
Reformation of Knox and Brown compared, -.,++++++++++«+++ ibid.
Mr. Brown most successful in gardens, not in grounds--++-.-- 148
His merit in gravel walks—those at Blenheim----++++++++++++ 149
His ridicule of zig-zag walks, Note--.-++++ssscesseerseeeeees 150
Fountains and statues++++++sececcevecvcssccessscerccceveess 151
Caution with regard to statues in gardens:+-+--+-++.+-e+es0%8 158
General comparison of ancient and modern gardening: --...«+ ibid.
Symmetry, formality, strait lines, ++++++++eeeeeeeserseeses 159
The Italian style of gardening most suited to stately architec-

ture, but there are gradations in garden ornaments, as in

buildings esevesee Cree ese meres seesegeeersseeee + 8 40s erase ears 160
How a real ani progressive improvement in gardening might be

made ees ereews SHOR SS ORS MOA AEVRATCCE OTLB TTS O CP ORC ese ODE 161

False idea of OFigiuality,s+serssereceensseeersesseeveeeneee 163

XXVi CONTENTS.

Difference between leaving old terraces, avenues, &c. and
making them ++++eesssessecevsrens a taTotptoiaibiols 2 tic ied eee
Richmond terrace, Note. «i Mv.ueis.. vee ddecscsccccsccese 165

Arguments drawn from poetry, painting, &c. in favour of heigh-

tening and embellishing common nature-+s+ees+eeseseeees 166
The difficulties of gardening not in executing the parts, but in

combining them into a well connected whole--++++++++e++++ 167

“

Essay on Architecture and Buildings.

My remarks will chiefly be confined to buildings as connected

with scenery-++++-+-++++ Sex a eh Ee i BN i |
Distinction between architecture in towns, and in the country-+ 172
Reasons for that distinction ----- Coeees Pec ceececseeees Seguce aga
An architect should be architetto-pitiore-.++++sseeeeseeee “R ibids
The necessity of employing such an architect where the build- As
- ing is meant to accord with the scenery-++++++++eeeeeeereee 175
Many who think of their house and their place separately: not
~ of the union of their character and effect------- be teeeee see 177
None so likely to produce a reform on that point as arcliitect- |

painters Diet siriehe iste ice W Livlalnceleinldusieled elslelss's'e de vie «v's dilate ae
Not even landscape-painters—the reason-+++++++eeeeeeeeseees 179
One cause of the naked appearance of houses, is the hiding of

the OfF1CCS ++ ete cree ee reece ern teeeenereceueerssseessesee 190
Advantages that might be gained by shewing them.---+-- sath 1814

Another cause, the change in the style of gardening.-..--+-++ 182

Genius of the lamp. Wofeds civ clas tis a ce 6 on bre distaleigletein = ait tia

Bareness of abbeys and castles that have been improved-+---- 188
Also of rocks. Note .........+0- oe ce a oleate os! iielane os cvbesisst $O4

On the mixture of trees with buildings in pictures: +++-++++++* 185

CONTENTS. XXVil
And ip real scenes—Turkey—Tbolland ..+-++ +++ seid bale en SOE
Objections to them stated and considered--- ++ {Obs Hee deseceee 188
Trees the dress of buildings —Phryne--++-+++++++ bebe b eee ees 194

Bareness and monotony the diseases of modern improvement:+ 196

The best preservative against all extremes, is a study of the

grand, beautiful, and picturesque in buildings-+«++++++++ +++ ibid.
The sublime in buildings--------- oonsee? nee pes doa ©sf0F
Mr. Burke—Succession and uniformity -+++-++eeeee renee ++ +-ibid,
The sublime. of intricacy....-+.sseseesceereeennens fa duviaai 198
Effects of intricacy and uniformity compared++++++++++++++ ++ 200
San Pietro Martire of Titian-+-+-++++eseseeerees dens aa er QOD
Massiveness in buildings------.--- 9,0 8 bo cles dslnp uncle Gelas celasis + 202
Lightness of style in writing—Voltaire. Note..-.--- oadaigm alee 203
Pastum—Blenheim—Anecdote of Voltaire. Note---+-++++> 204
Massiveness in figures. Note on Blenheim .-..+-+++++-+++ +++ 205
Analogy between rocks and buildings--++++++-+- taseaneeesees 206
Grandeur of marked divisions, as towerss*++-++++ +++ sinsioite BUR

Wollaton house and Nottingham castle. Note-.«+-++++++++* 210

Vanbrugh—Character of Blenbeim.--.++++ee+* Deeeee ssesvee 212
Summits. of buildings. .++.+0+-+eeeeeeeereeeeers ele ene
Gown of Tivoli ....+-eceresrecsereesecsseseesenes Pela aeee den OAS
And of Bath-+++-esesesseee ssc eteeeeeeeeseeeees Sip cele «++ 220

Appearance of buildings in the general view of a city--++--++ ibid.
Remark on the appearance of a mansion with its offices--++-+ 224
Chimgies se eeegeseiececesscenccescegeccecessencecccne| 224
Summits of buildings in pictures, &c. their various characters: + 931
The beautiful in buildings..+.+++++seeeseeceeeeceeeerereeree Wh
Waving lines, Anecdote of Hogarth—Note

Twisted columns eeeee Burnes Ee TOR Ee bee ese ee 8 os 8 935

XXVIN CONTENTS.

Temple of the Sybil: the qualities of beauty according to Mr.
Burke, applied £6 i608 di bestiin aber Aw noes airiobein Sie wlel. wee » 237

Beauty in the surface and tint of buildings—the buildings in
Mr. Locke’s Claudes++20svcccscccrcvsccccccsvccsceces 240

By what means they might cease to he beautiful and become
‘simply grand, and picturesque: +--+ pints bot. -iseagod, wes O49

Symmetry—Grecian and Gothic architecture. Note+---+ ++ 944

The doctrine of insensible transitions applied to ruins------- « 246
Aésociation uf deas+ <> fee ae Lied ews sittaa ie De SOA
Ruins in the pictures of Claude++++eeeeeeeeeeeeserseerecees 249
Claude and Gaspar ---++- eee ceees ee eee seneee te ceveceeseee 952

Conjecture why Claude so often painted ruins, and Gaspar
SO rarely+sseesesecserteres <\niebyaeje.0'e 46) pelsceicle ce eeeeees 958
One great use of buildings in landscape, a resting place for
the Eye errs eeeeeesaceeeteeeeereeeeseerenesecassserens Q5g

Salvator Rosa seldom painted any buildings in his landscapes-- 255

The picturesque in buildingS++++++ee+eeeeereceeeeeseserens 958
BMixed with beauty eee eter Cees ereeneereeesees teesecere B59
With grandeur+--- eeeee ee eere ree SSS Sreetr eee sees esegpeeese 260

Ruins of Greek and Roman buildings:+++++eerssseeesee «++ 262
OF abbeys sesstereerecescceseaeetes seseseceseeseeesees 968
OF eastles—of old mansion-houses +++eeeseerseerssereacccsses Q64
OF cottages, mills, &c. ae vorcelede@dccccccrccwssvesvescoccocese Oe
Picturesque habitable buildings +-+-+++++++reessereeeereueee ibid,

Advantages of turning the windows towards the best points

of view eeeerecere wee ee eee ser eres eseeeeeeesereeeHeED 968 .
On bridges: ++++++seceeceeeeece @oreereessese + eee eeerree 971
Stupendous bridge in China-+-++++esssseeeceersesessecrsees 272

Grecian and Gothic Bridges s+coctsecerecseseercrtreseee 27%

CONTENTS. xxix

Lightness and Massiveness—Quotation from Milton +++++..«+. 277

Columns in bridges—Blackfriars+++++eeest eee eweceereees + 279
Wooden Bridges «+++ cee+seereeeees SY eorccsercecs IBF
Stone and wood «++--+++++e5+. Reercarsece ersccereveceseevers 959

Picturesque bridge at Charenton—not however an object of *

JMitationss>ccccceececce cercccvecvsosesees on mvibend wiveee's ibid.
Anecdote of a Chinese tailor. Note. -+++s+++sseeeeeee eee 284
Stone and wood bridge in a drawing of Claude+--+++++++++++ 285

Character of architecture and buildings in the pictures of great
historical painters of the Roman, Florentine, and Venetian
SE Eee or eilil te MU sratad tana a Wels etacie a ale i eo las

Drawing of Tintoret. Note-+++s++eceerecseeesevees erence 200

Architecture of the Venetian school; difference of its character
from the two others, The Causes «+++-++seeeees areccsse 203

Twisted columns in one of the cartoons «+++reeesseeeeressee 296

Grandeur produced by two columns in a picture of Titian +--+ 298

Bolognese school of painting «+++++e+eessyeeerseerereeeeeeres 300

Pietro da Cortona «+--+: poem ec erorecece 5/0 wi aia 4.0 a'e(gieos deccee 3801
Bodice vinga cess soos nS wiki: ciara Ses ace ey. SCRE
Flemish school—Rubens:- «2.000. ececcccoseccccansrscteqesoos S05
Landscapes—Roman and Florentine schools ++ +++¢+++-+++++++ 308
Ditto BBY Tanti tee at COC OR TACs BOT Crna Ee aIee 309
Two landscapes of Titian, etched by Bolognese ..-.--++++++ ++ SIL
Application of the principle on which the buildings in them are
Grouped +rrsereceveeeeeseeee Ape ae RUDRA fp ETT
Landscapes of Bolognese school..++ «+++ er ho ae
Ditto of Poussia ee derecerecere eevee wvcerccsescsovesses 315
Magnificent view of a city in one of his pictures ++++++++++++ 316

Similar views in pictures of P, Veronese aud Claude:-+++--++° 318

XXX CONTENTS.

Argument drawn from them for varying the summits... +++ +++ ibid.

Landscape of Sebastian Bourdon «-+---- veseeee beeeeeeee tosses SIF
Left as.a legacy to Sir George Beaumont. Note ..+-+++++++- ibid.
Use of the Picturesque in grand subjects—quotation from Di-
derdt. 9 Note ieee a ee SCY FPGA ies 5 ass weet dos | 304
Abuse of it in pictures of Boucher----.-.------+ yo 7)
Landscapes of Rubens --+++++++ seeee SHES Oe, ate af ot edsde 399
Dutch school—Remarks on a passage in Mr. Burke++++.++++- 323:

Ostade Pe ee ee ee ee er a eo 825

Wovsriitens %. iis onisere). aged wl, se yaeeeaq Jeainomidga
"Ges as a Sica? 3.05's 5.0% =o a0: s 0ls's'ate'slafo'e alae o's ee vats ca «el emgem
Rembrandt «ss. e sec see wees be ta SUOLE - ol IUSeer cud SUER 334
On slantitig roofs «+++ +++ erses cose eereereesece StF. HPI T SS 33%

, ae - L) *
Villages—no scene admits of such various and cheap embel-

Hshments<---- => Sen ssivlefasie we = 6.0'w ee Tosccevesed Sete eneneee « $42
Goldsmith—sham villages in China. Note--+-++e++++s seeeere 345
Character of a village as distinct from a town-++--- soeccesees 346
Of village-houses ---+++++++- PE sce oa his-eas Mipee nace 348
Chimnies --+-- Deiee sac nate natn mala aaels pete pe pica bit, Bala Se -- 349
Accompaniment of trees ---++- cine ei viginivin'sc eee tate tacusdese ese) ne
Of climbing plants----- Retad atin cicces HEE CER ICCC RODS 2c 352
Fruit Es elias ainsieiinte np oldie t aicle aroiaje\siatelaye<)= Sow eats feat ee cesees -. 356
Neatness pleasing, though with formality, as in clipped hedges 357 :
Churches and church-yards Manalte ess sean cee be Se RA aie gpl 835e

The forms and ornaments of churches—the tower, battlements,
pinnacles -+++++++e+++- Perret ier rrrere

Quotation from Milton, Note -eeee esqeccececcccccctecscees SOL
ae cons oe Tee

ereeereaeerererree 364

The Spire --++eeeecereseeeeeeeeeecees eeeee Seer

Trees in church-yards.2+e+e+seereereess

-

CONTENTS. XXXi

Water—a brook most in character with a village-+++++++++-+s« 363
Simple foot-bridge+--+++ see eseeseseenees eT eer,
Stones placed on each other for the purpose of washing++++ +++ ibid.
Picturesque circumstances they give rise t0 ++ +++erseeeseeeees S64
Remarks on Pope’s translation of a passage in Homer. Note-- 365
Tendency of the love of painting towards benevolence++++ +++ 367
Gainsborough—Sir Joshua Reynolds--+--- ete eeeee eens crseee 368
How far a judgment in architecture may be acquired by the
study of pictures ++ ++sessseeeereeceeasceseeeenseecoeeeess ibid,

Conclusion ere ee Pee eee eee eee eee ee eee! eee eee eee 369

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Lan

apy

AN

ESSAY

ON

ARTIFICIAL WATER,

AND ON

THE METHOD
IN WHICH
PICTURESQUE BANKS

MAY BE PRACTICALLY FORMED.

VOL. If. z

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iby aOR
Oy ee Bs

AN

ESSAY

ARTIFICIAL WATER, &c.

ET might very plausibly be argued in de-
fence of Mr. Brown and his followers, that
however easy it may appear in theory to
-make an artificial piece of water look like
a natural lake or river, and to give it such
effects as would please the painter, it
would by no means be easy in practice:
that the mode of proceeding in the two
arts, (supposing the end to be the same,)
is very «ifferent, as the painter executes
his own ideas, while the improver must
trust ‘to the hands of common labourers ;
B 2

+

on which account, a regular and deter-
mined form must be given, the lines staked
out with precision, and the levels taken
with the same regularity and exactness.
This I allow to be a real difference be-
tween the two arts, and a real difficulty in
that of gardening: but if difficulties were
always to stop the progress of art, and if
the most obyious and mechanical system
of operation were always to be adopted,
because it would be the easiest, because it
would require no invention to plan, nor
taste to direct it,—all arts would be re-
duced to trades; for that which makes the
distinction between them would no longer
exist. With regard to Artificial Water,
whenever those circumstances which can
give it variety and effect shall studiously
be preserved, I shail think highly of the
taste and judgment of the professor: and
should I ever see those circumstances
created, { shail then be proud of English
gardening. I shall then say that an artist,
who could execute such a work by means
of mechanical hands, not only had taste,

3b

but genius and invention, and that it seem-
ed as if his spirit, like Hotspur’s, had
+ Ee seer Oe Lent a fire
F’en to the dullest peasant.

I am well aware, however, not only of the
intrinsic difficulty of pointing out from
theory what is likely to succeed in prac-
tice, but also of the cavils and objections
which may be raised against every part of
such an innovation, by those who are wed-
ded to the old system: for [ am not san-
guine enough to expect, that what I am
now risking in the hope of promoting the
real improvement of real landscapes, will
be received by them with candour, or
that any allowances will be made in fa-
vour of the intention. On the contrary,
I know that it will be looked upon asa
fresh invasion of the realms of perpetual
smoothness and monotony; an invasion
which should be repelled by every kind of
weapon.

I will begin by observing, that in order
to gain a just idea of the manner in which
we ought to form the banks of artificial

6
pieces of water, the first inquiry should
be, how those of natural lakes and rivers
are formed; for I of course suppose, that
the most admired parts of them are the
proper objects of imitation. This is an
inquiry which I believe has never been
made with that view, and which I imagine

will throw great light upon the whole sub-
ject.

It has been asked, indeed, by way of ri-
diculing the effect of time and accident in
producing those circumstances which aré
generally called picturesque, ‘ whether na-
‘ture* is a more pleasing object in a
¢ dwindled and shrivelled. condition, than
‘when her vigour “ is as great, her beauty
« as fresh, and her looks as charming as if
“ she newly came out of the forming
« hands of her Creator?” I do not know
in what manner Lord Shaftesbury, from
whom the latter part of this passage is
taken, may have applied it, but as it has
been made use of by Mr. G. Mason, it

* Essay on Design in Gardening, page 204,

7

seems to mean, if it mean any thing, that
pieces of artificial water, as they have ge-
nerally been made, of one equal verdure
and smoothness, look as if they were the
immediate productions of the Creator ;*
while natural lakes and rivers, the banks of
which must always be partially worn and
broken, shew nature in a dwindled and
shrivelled condition.

How this earth did look when it was
first created, or how nature then performed
her operations, it would be as useless, as
it is impossible to know, All we are con-
cerned in, is the present appearance of
things, and her present operations,—the
constant tendency of which, so opposite
to the supposed improvements of art, is to
banish, not to create monotony; and we
really might as well reason on a supposed

* | remember haying been told by a person of great ve-
racity, (and who, if I am not mistaken, was present at the
conversation,) that Mr. Brown, on some of his works being
commended, had said, “‘ None but your Browns and your
“ God Almighties can do such things as these.” Mr.
Mason seems to have justified the pretension contained in
this blasphemous piece of arrogance.

8

state of the moon, as on any supposed state
of theearth when it was first created. What
we can reason upon, and what can alone
bein any degree to the purpose, is the pro-
gressive state of nature which we now ob-
serve, and which to us is creation. The
most rational way, therefore, of imitating
those happy effects, which we most ad-
mire in nature, is to observe the manner in
which she progressively creates them, and
instead of prescribing to her a set form,
one tittle from which she must not pre-
sume to vary, we ought so to prepare every
thing, that her efforts may point out, what,
without such indications, we never can sug-
gest to ourselves.* On this most material
point, which I shall afterwards endeavour
more fully and distictly to explain, the
true method of imitating nature, is found-
ed; and to the total neglect of it, or rather

* Tt can hardly be necessary to say, that I am here cone
sidering every thing merely in a picturesque light; and
that I am not recommending to those, who think only of
profit and convenience, to encourage the effects of acci-
dent : they will, with equal reason, no less studiously guard
against them, |

,

9

to the most determined aversion to sucha
mode of imitation, the tameness, mono-
tony, and, | may add, wunnaturalness of mor
dern gardening must be attributed: for
those higher degrees of smoothing and*po-
lishing, which, when used with judgment
and confined to their proper limits, have
so pleasing and dressed an appearance,
have been made, I might almost say, the
preparation for improvement, as well as
the final object of it.

As all artificial pieces of water must of
course be stagnant, it seems to me that the
circumstances which relate to the forma-
tion of what may be called accidental
pieces of stagnant water,* should more
principally be attended to, than those
which relate to rivers. |

Upon the great and inimitable scale of
nature, lakes are formed by many propor-

* It often happens that large pieces of water are made
for the use of mills or forges, by floating a valley ; where,
as they are not intended for ornament, the banks are left
in their original state. These, though not accidental, may
be considered in the same light. The only opposition is
between natural banks, and those where art has interfered,

10

‘

tionate causes. As, for example, when
the crater of a volcano sinks down; when
a chasm remains after an earthquake ; or
when part of a mountain, falling across the
bed of a river, creates a natural dam:
one instance of which I heard from a per-
son, who had been an eye-witness of the
progressive effect, soon after the tremen-
dous cause had taken place. This might
without impropriety be called the creation:
of a lake: for the only way in which the
nature we are acquainted with does create
them, is by some such accident as I have
mentioned.

Artificial pieces of water must be formed
by means of a head, of digging, or of both.
The most beautitul, whatever be their size,
will of course be those where digging
is unnecessary, where the surrounding
ground is of a varied character, and is in-
dented with bays and inlets variously ac-
companied. If such a basin be ready to
receive an artificial lake, the improver has
little difficulty about the form of his banks;
for the water, by insinuating itself into

li

every creck and bay, by winding round
each promontory, under the projecting
boughs, and the steep broken ground, by
lying against the soft verdure, and upon
the stony, or gravelly beech, will mark all
the characters of the shore; as it will like-
wise mark its different heights, by a com-
parison with its own level, But where all
is to be done by the spade, and the whole
of the banks to be newly formed, the task
is very different; and here it will be the
proper place to inquire, by what means
the varieties in the banks of natural lakes
are produced. I of course suppose, that
the improver would wish to have many of
those varieties, provided they could be in-
troduced without appearing crowded, or
affected, and without injuring unity of ef-
fect and of character: for if he be content
with the unity of monotdny, he cannot do
better than take Mr. Brown for his guide.
I think the best method of stating this
matter clearly, will be to shew in what
manner those natural lakes of which the ge-
neral form is pleasing, but which want those

12

varieties I have been speaking of, might,
from natural causes, have acquired them;
and then to shew how art may so prepare
the ground as to give a kind of guidance
and direction to the operations of nature.
It is easy to conceive some natural
lakes,. in which, though the shape of
‘the ground and the turns of the water,
might, from their winding and undulation,
be extremely pleasing, yet the monotony
would be very great; as, for instance,
among bare downs, or close-bitten sheep-
walks: for where the soil and turf are
firm, the descent gentle and uniform, so
that the rain-water, from its spreading
easily over the general surface, does not
produce any breaks or gullies—the mono-
tony would arise, from what, in many
»points of view, might very justly be con-
sidered as perfections. The whole outline
of the immediate bank in such a piece of
water, would have little more variety than
that of one of Mr. Brown's, though it would
be free from its formality, and affected
sweeps: and were natural wood to grow

12

upon it, though that must always be a
source of variety, yet alone it would not
be sufficient; for there are many varieties
of a striking kind, which exclusively be-
long to ground, and of which wood cannot
supply the place ; however necessary it be
to accompany, and to give them their full
value. What is it then that would give to
a lake of this kind a higher interest with
lovers of painting, and with many other
persons of natural taste and observation ?
and what would be the causes of such a
change? This is the inquiry [ propose to
make, and this will lead to the examples
of that mode of imitating nature which I
have already mentioned.

To give rise to picturesque circumstances
in such a lake, we must first suppose the
soil and the turf, instead of being firm, to
be in parts of a looser texture, and conse-
quently to be more easily acted upon by
frost and water. The winter torrents would
in that case wash some of the ground from
the higher parts, which by degrees would
accumulate, and form different mounds

14.

immediately above the water, and some-:
times little promontories, which would jut
out into the lake. Such projections would
not long remain bare; for wherever soil is
drifted down and accumulates, vegetation
is particularly luxuriant: heath and furze,
and, under their protection, trees and
bushes will often spring up spontaneously ;
and every one must have observed how
much more frequently they are found on the
sides of gullies and ravines, than on the more
open parts of hills,and how much more pic-
turesque their eflect is in such situations.
In other places the so: would crumble
away,and the banks be broken, and deeply
indented ; should there be any roeks.or large
stones, they, from the same causes,, will
partially be bared; while the strata of sand,.
gravel, and of different coloured earths
mixed with the tints of vegetation,.will m
various parts appear. ‘Ibe trees which
often grow on the shallow soil above the
rocks, will, as they grow old, shew parts of
their roots uncovered, and hanging over, or
clasping the rocks; while ivy being guarded

-

15

by the same brakes which nursed up the
trees will climb over them and the rocks,
In all this, ] have supposed only parts of
the banks to be so altered, and the other
parts to remain in their former smoothness,
verdure, and undulation. I would now
ask, if two lakes, the one universally green
and smooth, the other with the varieties 1
have described, were near each other;
which would be the most generally ad-
mired? I ean hardly conceive that any
person, would hesitate to which of the two
he would give the preference ; yet it must
be observed, that the picturesque cireum-
stances | have mentioned, arise from what,
in, other points of view, must be considered
as imperfections, and what, in their first
crude state, are deformities.

I will now put the case of an improver
who had been used to compare nature and
pictures together, and who intended. to
make a piece of artificial water in a valley,
the sides of which were uniformly green
and sloping like those of the lake I first
mentioned; this valley I suppose him. to

16

be able to float nearly to the height he
wished by means of the dam only, but that
he still would be obliged to form some
part totally by digging. Such an improver
would, of course, admire the last-mentioned
lake, and be desirous of finding out how
he might more quickly, and with greater
certainty give birth to those picturesque
circumstances, which in that must slowly
have arisen from time and accident. He
would begin, by taking the level of the
future water according to the intended
height of the head: by which means he
would have a very tolerable idea of the
general form ; and he would take care that
in digging out the mould from the sides to
form the head, the workmen should, if pos-~
sible, always keep some little way below
that level, in order that no marks of the
spade should appear after the pool was —
filled, but that he might see the exact out-
line which would be formed by the water
itself. By this method, some varieties,
even in the most unvaried ground, will
present themselves ; whereas by the usual

ail

17

method of preparing the outline with the
spade according to the stakes, the whole of
that outline must, in every instance, be stiff
and formal: it would be so, should the level
be so exactly and minutely taken, that
the line were precisely that which the
water itself would describe; and much
more so if artificial sweeps should be made.
The bank therefore being at first left in its
natural form, and the water itself being his
best guide with respect to any changes it
might be proper to make, he would go
round every part with a painter’s, not a
mere gardener’s eye; and instead of ex-
amining how he might make the sweeps
more regular, the bank more uniformly
sloping to the water edge, and every thing
more smooth, he would consider in what
parts the varieties I have mentioned could
be introduced most naturally, and with
most effect.

The two principal changes in the mere
ground are effected, first, by removing earth
from the banks, in order to form coves and
inlets of various sizes; and, secondly, by

VOL, If. Cc

18

placing it wpon them, in order to vary their
height and shape, or against them, to form
strong projections. ‘The first of these
changes is made in most pieces of artificial
water, but in so tame and. uniform a man-
ner, as to have little effect, or variety; the
second method, I believe, has never been
attempted.

In order to keep the whole more distinct,
I will begin by considering both the dif
. ficulty, and the practicability of breaking a
uniform bank into such fortns, as when
they are accompanied by vegetation, please
all eyes in natural Jakes and rivers.
- Whenever the shaping of a bank 4s left to
common labourers or gardeners, they of
course make it as smooth, and as uniformly
sloping as possible. Any directions to them
how to break it irregularly, would only pro-
duce the most ridiculous notches, with visi-+
ble marks of the spade, or the pick-axe ; for
even a painter who was used to gardening,
could not with his own hand by the im-
mediate use of such instruments, produce
any thing picturesque or natural. As art

-

19

is unable by any immediate operation to
create those effects, she must have recourse
to nature, that is, to accident ; whose ope-
ration, though she cannot imitate, she can,
in a great measure, direct. If, therefore,
an improver wishes to break the uniformity
of a green sloping bank, rising however
from the water with a quick, though an
equal ascent, he will oblige his workmen,
after he has marked out the general forms
and sizes of those breaks, to cut down the
banks perpendicularly, and then to under-
mine them in diflerent degrees. By this
method, though he be unable to copy the
particular breaks with which he may have
been pleased, he will be certain of imitat-
ing their general character. By this me-
thod, likewise, all sameness and formality
of lines will necessarily be avoided ; for
were each break to be staked out in the
most formal manner, each to be a regular
semicircle precisely of the same dimension,
and the workmen to follow the exact line of
the stakes, yet still by undermining it would
be impossible not to producevariety, Then
Cc 2

20
again, as monotony is the parent of mono-
tony, so is variety the parent of variety.
When by the action of rain and frost, added
to that of the water itself, large fragments.
of mould tumble from the hollowed banks
of rivers or lakes, those fragments, by the
accumulation of other mould, often lose
their rude and broken form, are covered
with the freshest grass, and enriched with
tufts of natural flowers; and though de-
tached from the bank, and upon a lower
level, still appear connected with it, and
vary its outline in the softest and most
pleasing manner. As fragments of the
same kind will always be detached from
ground that is undermined, so by their
means the same effects may designedly be
produced ; and they will suggest number-
Jess intricacies and varieties of a soft and
pleasing, as well as of a broken kind. They
will likewise indicate where large stones
may be placed in the most natural and
picturesque manner: for when such stones
and fragments of mould are grouped with
each other, they not only have a better ef-

A

21

fect to the painter’s eye, but they appear
to have fallen together from the bank;
whereas, without such indication, without
something in the form of the ground which
accords with and accompanies them, stones
placed upon mere turf, have seldom that
appearance of lucky accident, which should
be the aim, where objects are not profess-
edly artificial. In making any of those
abrupt inlets, the improver must consider
what parts would most probably have been
torn by floods, if the mould and the turf
had been of a looser texture, and the ge-
neral surface less calculated to spread the
water; in order that he might give to his
breaks the appearance of having been
torn by accident. He would not, however,
be guided by that consideration alone, but
also observe where such inlets would have
the most picturesque, as well as the most
natural effect; how they would be accoin-
panied, and in what manner the more dis-
tant parts might be introduced: for as all
strongly marked abruptnesses attract the
eye, he would endeavour by their means to

99

a «

aitract it towards the most interesting ob-
jects, or at least not towards those of an
opposite character.

After he had settled the pelawined pots
where he would either add, or take away
earth for the sake of picturesque effect, he
would then begin to dig out the soil that
might be necessary for completing the
form and size he wished to give his lake,
In the management of this part, which
must be entirely formed by digging, lies
the great difficulty; for if the lme be ex-
actly staked out, and the bank every where
sloped down in that direction to the edge
of the future water, perfect monotony will,
as usual, be the consequence. ‘The art
here consists, and it is by no means an easy
one, in preserving a general play and con-
nection of outline, yet varied by breaks and
inlets of different heights and characters:
it. consists in avoiding. sameness and insi-
pid curves, yet in no less carefully avoiding
such frequent and distinct breaks, as, from
a difierent cause, would disfigure the out-
line.

-

25

| Such opposite defects might perhaps be
avoided,’ and such opposite beauties be
united, were improvers to observe, and
even to analyze those banks of natural
lakes and rivers, in which such beauties,
without the defects, do exist.. No one can
doubt that there are natural banks of a
moderate height, where the general play
of outline is preserved by the connection
of the parts, and yet where on a near ap-
proach, and in different directions, num-
berless breaks, inlets, and picturesque cir-
cumstances of every kind are perceived. —

Let us suppose then that all the trees,
bushes, and vegetation of every kind, were
to be taken away from such a bank; what
would remain? A number of rough un-
sightly heaps of earth, tumbled into irre-
gular shapes; with perhaps several stumps,
» roots of trees, and large stones in different
parts of it. If these also were removed,
nothing would be left but broken unequal
banks of earth. ‘The prophetic eye of real
taste might indeed, even in this rude
chaos, discern the foundation of numberless

24
beauties and varieties; but the rash hand
of false taste would destroy that founda-
tion, by indiscriminately destroying all
roughness and inequality.

This sort of analysis shews what is the
ground-work of picturesque improvement ;
but that eround-work by no means pre-
cludes the future admission of those softer
beauties which arise from smoothness and
undulation. The essential difference is,
that the last-mentioned qualities may be
given at any time, and in any degree;
whereas it is extremely difficult to return
back to abruptness. The reason of this
difference is obvious: all smoothing and
levelling can be done in a great measure
by rule, and therefore with certainty; but
the effects of abruptness, though they may
be prepared by design, can only be pro-
duced by accident, and cannot be renewed
but by the same process.

‘The person therefore who has any part
of a piece of water to form totally anew,
would, according to my conception, do
well to take any beautiful bank of a river

25
or lake that would suit the style and scale
of his ground, as a sort of model; and
in some degree to analyze the component
parts, and, as it were, the anatomy of it.
He would do well to examine the ground
with its breaks, cavities, and inequalities,
separate from their beautiful disguise of
trees and plants ; and to consider the effect
which such ground gives to vegetation, as
well as the charm which it receives from
that delightful drapery of nature. In
doing this, the improver would be follow-
ing the practice of the most consummate
masters of another art. Who does not
know that Raphael, and almost all the
eminent historical painters, though their
pictures were only to represent the human -
figure in its perfect state, yet studied and
designed the anatomical position of all the
bones, muscles, &c. in detail? What is
still more to the point in question, the
great artist whom I bave just mentioned,
accurately drew the naked forms of those
figures, which he meant to represent with
drapery; knowing how much the grace

26

and play of that drapery must depend on
what was beneath, and that its folds were
not meant to hide, but to mdicate and
adorn the forms which they covered.

The whole of this présents the idea of
ground-working, in a new, and a much
higher point of view; so perfectly new, that
I believe nothing of the kind has hitherto
been attempted, or even thought of. ‘The
difficulty is in proportion to the variety of
points from which each part (as being part
of a composition) must be considered. Mr.
Brown never thought of picturesque com-
position; and where the parts, as im his
banks, are all alike both in form and co-
lour, and without any break, there can. be
no difficulty with regard to their connec-
tion with each other, however ill they may
accord with the rest of the landscape.
Nionotony is, indeed, a very certain re-
medy against particular defects; but it
may truly be said, that such a remedy is
worse than almost any disease.

If then an improver were determined to
avoid such unnatural monotony, to copy

_

27 ,
nature inher lucky varieties and effects,
and to. copy her as closely as. possible, he
might by way of study, and as a trial how
far an imitation could ,\be, made to. re-
semble a beautiful original, take..a sort
of plan of the ground, independently of,the
trees, &c. He might thea mark out on
the sides of the future water, the exact
places. where the mould which was dug
out should be deposited, but without being
smoothed or levelled; only directing that
each heap, more or less continued and ex+
tended in length, should be raised to.cer-
tain heights in different parts: all the in-
lets and projections might be formed upon
the same principle. ‘This, when done,
would be the rough ground-work; and
would have something of the general shape
of what he had admired, but with unavoid-
able varieties. Such a state of ground may
be compared to the state of'a picture when
the artist has just roughly sketched in the
general masses and forms. ‘To a person
unused to the process, the whole appears
like a heap of confusion, and of dabs of

28

paint put on at random; just as the ground
in a similar state would appear like a heap
of dirt, thrown about without any mean-
ing: aud this is the state in which both
painters and improvers would dislike to
have their works seen.- But in both it isa
necessary preparation, a rude process,
through which those works must pass, be-
fore thes can receive the more distinct and
finishing touches.

The general form of the bank, that is, of
the mere ground, being made out in this
rude manner, the improver would next ob-
serve what were the other circumstances,
independently of trees and yegetation,
which gave picturesque effect to the bank
of the natural river which he was endea-
vouring to imitate, and produced varied
reflections in .the water. These, he might
probably find, were old stumps and trunks
of trees, with their roots bare and project-
ing; small ledges of rocks, and stones of
various sizes, either accompanied by the
broken soil only, or fixed among the
matted roots; some of them in the sides of

29°

the bank itself, some below it, and near
the edge of the water; others zz the water,
with their tops appearing above it. In
another part again, there might be a beach
of gravel, sand, or pebbles, the general
bank being there divided and a passage
worn through it, by animals coming to
drink, or to cool themselves in the water.
Many of these, and of similar circum-
stances, he might probably be able to pro-
duce in his new-formed bank, before he
began the operation of planting; nor ought
he to be deterred by the awkward naked.
appearance of stumps, roots, and stones
half buried in dirt, but look forward to
the time when dirt and bareness will be
gone, when rudeness will be disguised, and
effect and variety alone remain.

Should a-taste for diversifying the banks
of artificial water once prevail, | am well
persuaded that such an inexhaustible fund
of amusement and interest would succeed
to the present dull monotony, as might
tempt many into the opposite extreme.
Just at present, however, there is no need

SO

of caution on that head; and the study of
pictures, by means of which a taste for
such varieties is best acquired, will at once
be the incentive, and the corrective ; it will
point out many unthought-of varieties and
effects, and at the same time will! shew in
what situations simplicity, in what richness
ought to prevail; where, and how they
ought to be introduced in succession, so as
to give relief to each other.

“When we consider the great beauty of
tints, independently of form, and of light
and shadow; as likewise the great variety
of them which nature does, and conse-
quently art may introduce into one scene
of a river, and that with the most perfect
harmony, and unity of effect—it is quite
surprising that they should absolutely have
been banished from the banks of artificial
water, and from what are meant to be the
most ornamented scenes. Iam not here
speaking of trees or their various tints, of
which however little advantage has been
taken on the banks of water, though in
‘other places too licentious a use is often

oe

31

made of thei diversity ; [ am now speak-
ing of the tints of stone, and of the soil in
broken ground, both which have this
great advantage—that, although they form
a more marked contrast to vegetation than
ahy trees do to each other, yet they ina
peculiar degree harmonize with other
objects. The first of them is.in. many
cases allowed to be highly ornamental ;
the latter, [ believe, may be made to ac-
cord with dressed scenery, at least where
the banks of water are concerned;* for
where the professed aim is that of imitat-
ing a river, surely those circumstances
which give such effect, variety, and natu-
ralness to rivers, ought not to be proscrib-
ed. On the contrary, the improver ought
tomake them the object of his search, his
study, and his imitation, not only on lakes
and rivers, but wherever there are rich and
varied banks; for we must be sure that .
water and reflection would double their
beauties. All such banks afford studies
for painters, either alone, or conibined with

* Vide Letter to Mr. Repton, page 159.

32

water; but without some variety of tintin.
their accompaniments, rivers, either in na-
ture or painting, would be most insipid
objects. If therefore an artist were de-
sired to paint a scene, in which a river was
to be the principal feature, and were told
at the same time, that for the banks of
it he must make use of no other. colour
than grass green, [I imagine he would
hardly undertake it, even if he should be
allowed to differ so far from Mr. Brown,
as to vary the form, as well as the light and
shadow of those banks.* He certainly
would wish to make use of such a diver-
sity of tints as might create variety and
interest, without glare and confusion ; and
the improver, instead of being more re-

* Mr. Brown and his followers have confined tiem-
selves to the most strict and absolute monotony, in form, °
colour, and light and shadow. I trust that some years
hence it will appear quite surprising, that professors of the
art of laying out grounds should have received large sums
of money, for having planned and executed what they
called artificial rivers ; but from which they had studiously
excluded almost every circumstance of a natural one, ex-
cept what they could not get rid of—the two elements of
earth and water.

35

strained, may be allowed to go much fare
ther than the painter; and this is a point
which deserves to be discussed.

Landscape-painters have availed them-
selves of all the varieties which suited their
art; but in a painted landscape, the detail
must always be subordinate to the general
effect. It often happens that in a real
fore-ground numberless circumstances
give delight which the painter in a great
degree suppresses; because they would
not accord with the intentional neglect
of detail in the general style and conduct
of his picture, nor yet with the scale of it,
compared with that of real scenery. But
the improver, who works with the mate-
rials of nature, may venture, though still
with caution, to indulge himself in her li-
berties ; he may give to particular parts
the highest degree of enrichment, that
rocks, stones, roots, mosses, with flowering
and trailing plants, of close or of loose tex-
ture, can create, without the same danger
which the painter incurs, of injuring the
whole. Such parts, when viewed at a dis-
" VOL, II. D

tance, would only have a general air of
richness; and that is the character which
they would have in a painted landscape.
When seen near, they are much more rich
in detail than a painter could venture to
Yepresent them in his fore-ground: they
are Compositions of a confined kind, which
have seldom been carefully finished as
such, though often sketched as studies.
But had such an artist as Van-Huyssum,
who was both a landscape and a flower-
painter, chosen to take a compartment of
that kind by itself quite separate from the
rest of the scenery, he would have repre-
sented it in its full detail; and such a pic-
ture would have borne the same relation
to a landscape, as one of those. groups of
flowers which he so often did paint, and
with such wonderful truth and splendour,
bear to the general view of a garden. He
would have expressed all the brilliancy and —
mellowness of such a small composition :
and we, in dressing such parts, should en-
deavour to give them that mixture of mel-
lowness and brilliancy, which would suit.

“a

55

such a picture as he, or any painter of the
same character and excellence, would have
painted.

These are some of my reasons for think-
ing that the banks of artificial water may
be more enriched, than those of rivers ap-
pear to be in painting; or, I may add,
than they are in nature, if an average were
taken between the plain and the enrich-
ed parts of the most admired river. A
piece of made water bears the same rela-
tion to a lake, or a river, that a sonnet, or
an epigram, does to an heroic or a di-
dactic poem: in any short poem, a quick
succession of brilliant images and expres-
sions, is not only admired, but expected :*
whereas they would be ill placed in the
narrative, or the connecting parts of a
long work. ‘The case is particularly strong
with respect to artificial water; as it is
professedly ornamental, and made with no
other intention.

In order to point outa few of those va-

* La brevita del sonetto, non comporte che una sola
parola sia vana. Lorenzo dé Medici.

pd@

36
rieties which appear to me most capable of
being imitated by art, I will consider some
of the different characters of the banks of
natural rivers. ‘The most uninteresting
parts of any river, are those, of which the
immediate banks are flat, green, naked,
and of equal height. I have said uninte-
resting; for they are merely insipid, not
_ ugly: no one however, I believe, calls them
beautiful, or thinks of carrying a stranger
to see them. But should the same kind
of banks be fringed with flourishing trees
and underwood, thére is not a person who:
would not be much pleased at looking
down such a reach, and seeing*such a
fringe reflected in the clear mirror. If, a
little farther on, instead of this pleasing,
but uniform fringe, the immediate banks
were higher in some places, and suddenly
projecting ; if, on some of these projections,
groups of trees stood on the grass only;
on others, amixture of them with fern and
underwood ; and between them the turf
alone came down almost to the water edge,
and let in the view towards the more dis-

37
tant objects—any spectator who observed
at all, must be struck with the difference
between one rich, but uniform fringe, and
the succession and opposition of high and
low, of rough and smooth, of enrichment
and simplicity. »A little farther on, other
circumstances of diversity might occur.
In some parts of the bank, large trunks
and roots of trees might form coves over
the water, while the broken soil might ap-
pear amidst them and the overhanging
foliage; adding to the fresh green, the
warm and mellow tints of a rich ochre, or
a bright yellow. A low ledge of rocks
might likewise shew itself a little above
the surface; but so shaded by projecting
boughs as to have it’s form and colour
darkly reflected. At other times these
rocks might be open to the sun, and, in
place of wood, a mixture of heath and
furze with their purple and yellow flowers,
might crown the top; between them wild
roses, honey-suckles, periwincles, and other
trailing plants might hang down the sides
towards the water, in which all these bril-

38

liant colours and varied forms would be
fully reflected.

These are a few of the numberless va-
rieties, which it is within the compass of
art to imitate: they nevertheless have sel-
dom, if ever, been tried in the style, or for
the purposes that I have mentioned; not
even those which arise from planting. but
as rocks with cascades, have been imitated
with success, there can be no difficulty in
placing trunks, or roots of trees, or in
imitating many eflects of stone, or of
rocks, on a smaller scale; especially where
there is no motion to disturb them. With
regard to the tints of soil, if sand, or any
rich-coloured earth, be placed where it will
be supported by stones, roots, or ledges
of rocks, as it often is in nature, it will
probably remain undisturbed; as there
would be no current, or flood to affect it.

In all I have written on the subject of
improvement, one great purpose has been
to poimt out the affinity, between land-
scape-painting, and landscape-gardening ;
in this case, the affinity is, very close in-

39

deed. The landscape-gardener would pre-
pare his colours, would mix and. break
them, just like the painter; and would be
equally careful to avoid the. two extremes
of glare and monotony: every aim of the
painter with respect to form, and light and
shadow, would likewise be equally that of
the landscape-gardener.

Between the professors of Mr. Brown’s
school and landscape-painters, there cer-
tainly is no kind of affinity; but there is
one branch of the art of) painting, from
which they seem to have borrowed many
of their principles, and their ideas of effect.
I mean that branch, the professors of
which sometimes call themselves painters
in general, but who are more commonly
known by the name of house-painters. The
aim of a house-painter is to make every
thing as smooth and even as the nature of
what he is to work upon will allow; and
then to make it of one uniform colour. So
did Mr. Brown. Another part of his art,
is to keep exactly within the lines that are
marked out. When, for instance, he is

40

picking in (as it is termed) the frize, or the
ornaments of a ceiling, he carefuliy and
evenly lays on his white, his green, or his
red, and takes care that all the lines and
the passages from one colour to another
shall be distinctly seen, and never mixed
and blended with each other as in land-
scape-painting. So far the two profess-
ors exactly resemble each other. The
great difference between them is, that the
former neyer proposed any of their works
as landscapes; whereas the latter, with al-
most as little pretension, have proposed
their’s, not merely as landscapes, but as
landscapes of a more refined and exquisite
kind, than those which nature, or the best
of her imitators had produced.

It may be objected to the style I have
recommended, that from the awkward at-
tempts at picturesque effect, such fantastic
works would often be produced as might
force us to regret even the present mo-
notony. Ihave no doubt that very di-
verting performances in roots, stones, and
rock-work would be produced, and that

4)

alone I should reckon as no little gain;
for who would not prefer an absurd, but
laughable farce, to a flat insipid piece of
five acts? There is, however, another very
essential difference. Ina made river there
is such an incorrigible dulness, that unless
the banks themselves be totally altered, the
most judicious planting will not entirely
get the better of it: but let the most whim-
sical improver make banks with roots,
stones, rocks, grottos, caverns, of every odd
and fantastic form; even these, by means
of trees, bushes, trailing plants, and of ve-
getation in general, may in a short time
have their absurdities in a great degree
disguised, and still under that disguise, be
the cause of many varied and striking ef-
fects: how much more so, if the same ma-
terials were disposed by a skilful artist!
There are, indeed, such advantages arising
from the moisture and vegetation which
generally attend the near banks of water,
that even quarry stones simply placed
against a bank, however crade their first
appearance, soon become picturesque;

49

mosses and weather-stains, the certain -con-
sequence of moisture, soon enrich and di-
versify their surface, while plants of dif-
ferent kinds spring forth between their se-
parations, and crawl, and hang over them
in various directions. If stones thus
placed upright like a wall, nay if a wall
itself may by means of such accompani-
ments have an effect, what an infinite num-
ber of pleasing and striking combinations
might be made, were an improver with the
eye of a painter, to search for stones of
such forms and tints, as he could employ
to most advantage! were he at the same
time, likewise to avail himself of some of
those beautiful, but less common flower-
ing and climbing plants which in general
are only planted in borders, or against
walls! we see what rich mixtures are
formed on rocky banks, by, common heaths
and furze alone, or with the addition of
wild roses and woodbines; what. .new,
combinations might then .be made, in
many places with the Virginia . creeper,
periploca, trailing arbutus, &c. which

AS

though, perhaps, not more beautiful,
would have a new and more dressed ap-
pearance! Many of the choice Ameri-
can plants of low growth, and which. love
shade, such as kalmeas, and rhododen-
drons, by having the mould they most de-
light in placed to the north, on that sort
of shelf which is often’ seen between a
lower and an upper ledge of rocks, would
be as likely to flourish as in a garden:
and it may here be remarked, that when
plants are placed in new situations with
new accompaniments, half hanging over
one mass of stone, and backed by an-
other, or by a mixture of rock, soil, and
wild vegetation, they assume so new a
character, such a novelty and brilliancy
in their appearance, as can hardly be con-
ceived by those who only see them in a
shrubbery, or a botanical garden. In
warmer aspects, especially in’ the more
southern parts of !ngland, bignonias, pas-
sion-flowers, &c. might often erow luxu-
riantly amidst similar’ accompaniments ;
these we have always scen nailed against

44

walls, and have but little idea of their ef-
fect, or even of that of vines and jessamines,
when loosely hanging over rocks and
stones, or over the dark coves which might
be made among them.

These effects of a more dressed and mi-
nute kind, might be tried with great con-
venience and propriety in those parts of
artificial pieces of water, which are often
enclosed from the pasture grounds, and de-
dicated solely to shrubs and verdure ; while
other circumstances of a ruder nature, and
not so liable to be injured, might with equal
propriety be placed in less polished scenes :
and by such methods, a varied succession
of pictures might be formed on the banks
of made water. Some of soft turf, and a
few simple objects; others full of enrich-
ment and intricacy; others partaking of
both those characters: yet while monotony
was avoided in the simple parts, general
breadth and harmony might no less be pre-
served in those which were most enriched,
for they are preserved in the most striking
parts of natural rivers ; which are often so

-

45

full of richness, intricacy, and variety, that
art must despair to rival them. :

{It may, perhaps, be thought that such
banks as Mr. Brown made, though very
‘tiresome if uniformly continued, would be
very proper for the simple parts of such ar-
tificial water as I have supposed: in my
opinion, however, they are in one sense,
almost as remote from simplicity, as from
richness. Simplicity, when applied to ob-
jects in which nature is professedly imi-
tated, always implies naturalness: by which
I mean that all the circumstances whether
few or many, should have the appearance
of having been produced by a lucky con-
currence of natural causes, without the in-
terference of art. For that reason when a
river is the object of imitation, the banks
ought not to be made more regularly
sloping to the edge of the water, or more
exactly levelled, than those of gentle rivers
usually are; otherwise they betray art, and,
of course, are no longer simple. Indeed,
in all such imitations, the danger of betray-
ing art should prevent too nice an attention

46

to regular slopes, even though frequent
precedents should be found to exist in na-
ture. The case is different in the gravel
walk ; for that is no imitation of nature, but
an avowed piece of art: avowedly made for
comfort and neatness. The two sides of a
gravel walk, may, therefore, be as even and
smooth as art can make. them, and the
sweeps regular and uniform. From not
attending to this very obvious difference,
Mr. Brown has formed. the banks of his
rivers, just as he did the sides of his walks;
he made the curves equally regular, and
the lines equally distinct.*

I shall, very probably, be accused of a
passion for enrichment, and a contempt for
simplicity, as I have been of an exclusive
fondness for the picturesque,and of a want
of feeling for what is beautiful. I have the
same defence to make against both charges
—the necessity of counteracting the strong
and manifest tendency of the general taste
towards monotony and baldness, to which
simplicity is nearly allied, and into which

* Essay on the Picturesque, page 364,

47
it easily degenerates. ‘To (correct those
two great defects of artificial water, it was
necessary to shew the charms: of) variety
and enrichment, and the practicability of
producing them; and as they are not
meant) to exclude simplicity, so neither
should simplicity exclude them: they are
correctives and heighteners of each other.
But it must be observed, that the effects
of enrichment can be more distinctly
pointed out in theory, and more certainly
created in practice, than those of simplicity
in its genuine sense. ‘The charm of a sim-
ple view on a river, consists in having a few
objects happily placed. A small group of
trees, a single tree with no other back-
ground than the sky, ora bare hill; a mere
bush, a tussuck, may happen to. give that
character: and any addition, any diminu-
tion, might injure or destroy quel tantino
che fa tutto. ‘Vo leave such slight, but es-
sential circumstances unaltered, isa matter
of some feeling and judgment: to place
them, still more so; and the attempt might
eften produce unconnected spots: but

48

stones, rocks, roots, with trees, bushes, and
trailing plants, if placed together, must at
least produce richness, and variety.*
Hitherto I have supposed, that in some
part of the ground where artificial water was
to be made, there were originally certain
inequalities and varieties of which advan-
tage could be taken: but it might be asked,
what is a person to do, whose house is situ-
ated in an absolute flat, and who still, in
spite of the disadvantages of such a situa-
tion, and of the absence of all picturesque
circumstances, is determined to make an
artificial river? Is he to vary the heights
of his banks, or to break them, when all

* That species of simplicity which arises from the ob-
jects being few, has in many cases a distinct and peculiar
charm, and should in those cases be most carefully pre-
served. ‘There is, however, another kind of simplicity,
which is of more extensive consequence; [ mean simplicity
and unity of effect—

Denique sit quidvis simplex duntaxat et unum.
Wherever intricacy, variety, and enrichment disturb that
unity, they are highly injurious; but where they do not,
unless they should interfere with simplicity so pleasing in
itself, and so clearly marked out as not to be mistaken, the¥
surely in most instances will plead their own excuse.

49

around is smooth and level? Is he to
plant bushes, or suffer them to grow, whien
the whole lawn is open and cleared? ‘I'hese
are questions which Mr. Brown’s admirers
might)» ask with triumph; and. here, they
might add, the superiority of our school of
improvement, and the genius of its founder
appear in the clearest light: that great self-
taught master,* by reducing the banks every
where to the same height, by sloping them
regularly, and keeping them clear from all
rubbish, has preserved, as far as’it is possi-
ble, that great beauty—continuity of sur-
tace; for in his artificial rivers, if we except
the space which the water itself occupies,
every blade of grass 1s seen as it was before
the water was made. It must be owned
that if the pleasure of viewing a piece, of
scenery consisted. in being able to tollow,a

* Very few great self-taught masters have eyer existed ;
none, perhaps, strictly speaking. Mr. Brown certainly is
in no sense of that number; and to hear the same title
given to bim as to Shakespear, or Salvator Rosa, would
raise our indignation if the extreme ridicule did not give
another turn to our, feelings,

VOL, If, E

i 50

surface with-the least possible interruption,
Mr. Brown’s method of making artificial
water would be perfect: but if grouping,
composition, partial concealment, variety,
effect, be all essential requisites in the-art of
‘creating landscapes, especially where water
is a principal ingredient, then a very dif-
ferent method must be pursued, even where
the whole country is perfectly flat... In
reality, by sacrificing the effect of water to
the surface of grass, the character of a mea-
dow or lawn is destroyed, yet that of a
lake or river is not obtained : for nothing
can more completely separate and disunite
the two parts of a meadow, than a naked
glaring piece of water; and nothing can be
Jess ike a beautiful river or lake, than such
a pretended imitation.

_, In my opinion, he who makes a piece of
water, whatever may be its situation, ought,
an almost “all ‘cases, to consider it as a
principal object of his attention: and in-
stead of sacrificing its character and effects
to, a false idea of continuity and ‘union,
ought to sacrifice, if necessary, many real

51

beauties, if he thereby could obtain such
scenes (considered merely in respect’ to
their immediate banks) as we are often-
times delighted with in natural lakes and
rivers. It happens, however, very fortu-
nately, that many of those circumstances
which render them so beautiful in them-
selves, serve likewise to unite them with
the rest of the scenery, and to give greater
effect and variety to the more distant parts.
Bare shaven banks form distinct lines,
which every where mark the exact separa-
tion of the two elements: but partial con-
cealments are no less the sources of connec-
tion, than of variety, effect, and intricacy ;
for by their means the water and the land,
the nearer and the more distant parts, are
blended and united with each other,

The effects of water are always so attrac-
tive, that wherever there is any appearance
of it ina landscape, whether. real or painted,
to that part the eye is irresistibly carried,
and to that it always returns. <All the, ob-
jects immediately round, it are consequently
most examined: where they are ugly or

2

52
insipid, the whole scene’ is disgraced ; but
where they are interesting, their mfluence
seems to extend over the whole scenery,
which thence assumes a character of beauty
that does not naturally belong to it.

This strong attractive power of water,
while it shews how much the immediate
banks ought to be studied, suggests like-
wise a ridthet consideration with regard ‘to
its position in the general view from the
house. In places where the views are con-
fined to the nearer objects, the water, as at
Blenheim, frequently occupies a very con-
siderable portion of the scenery, and mixes
with almost every part of it: but where from
a high station the eye surveys a more ex-
tended ‘country, the appearance of water
which may be produced by art, bears no
proportion ‘to that extent, though it may
greatly enliven parts of it. In such situ-
ations, therefore, the placing of the water
ought very much to be guided by the ob-
jects, whether near or distant, to which it
will serve asa sort of focus.’ It may happen,
for instance, that the parts which would be
most easily floated are placed amidst open

rere)

common fields, amidst hedges. without
trees ; or, What is worse, with stripped elins,
er pollard willows; that they are backed
by hills of bad shapes, and divided by
square map-like enclosures: a piece. of
water in that situation would infallibly
draw the attention towards those objects,
which otherwise might have escaped no+
tice ; and the eye, though it might be hurt
by them, will still be forced towards that
part: for our eyes, like moths, will always
be attracted by light, and no experience
can prevent them from returning to it. On
that account, the position of water can
never be a matter of indifference. If the
size of it be considerable, and the objects
in that direction ugly or uninteresting, it
will make their defects more conspicuous,
but by no means compensate those defects.
On the other hand, the smallest appearance
of water, a mere light in the landscape,
may answer a very essential purpose—that
of leading the attention to those parts
which are most worthy of notice: and,
therefore, wherever there are the happiest
groups of trees or buildings, the richest

o4

distances, the most pleasing boundaries of
hills or mountains, in that direction the
water, if possible, should be placed, so as
to blend with them into one composition.
1t will then serve, not merely as a brilliant
light in the landscape, but likewise as a
bond which unites all those parts together;
whereas, if it be placed at a distance from
them, the eye is distracted between objects
which it would like to fix upon, and a fas-
cinating splendour, the influence of which
it cannot resist.

I now return from this more general con-
sideration, to that of the banks of water in
a flat; and where also the ground through
which it is to be made, not only is without
any variety of heights and breaks, but even
without any thickets or bushes of which
advantage might be taken, for the pur-
poses of concealment and of naturalness.
By what means then could a piece of
water be formed in such a situation, so as
to be interesting in itself, and to give an
interest to all that surrounds it? I shall in
this inquiry pursue something of the same
method I have already taken, and consider

535
how a natural river, according to its dif-
ferent accompaniments, might look in such
a situation. Let us, therefore, suppose a
natural river, about the usual size of those
made by art, to pass slowly through the
middle of a large flat meadow, totally with-
out trees or bushes of any kind; but having
the part of its banks betwecn the general
level of the grass and that of the water,
worn and broken in various degrees. Such
a tiver would certainly have very few at-
tractions; but still the banks would have
some diversity, though of a rude and unin-
teresting kind. If one of Mr. Brown’s fol-
lowers were desired to dress such a scene,
he would of course slope all those banks
regularly and uniformly to the edge of the
water: an operation, by which they would
lose indeed their rudeness, but with it all
variety of surface. Again, the banks of
the natural river might have many irregular
turns and projections, which not being dis-
-guised and softened by trees or bushes,
would give a harshness to the outline.
Those. of Mr.. Brown’s improved river,

56

aould, on the other hand, be moulded into
regular curves equally undisguised, which
would therefore appear in all their insipid
sameness: and this, J think, is a fair pa-
rallel between one of Nature’s worst ri-
vers, and the best of Mr. Brown’s. Such,
then, would be their respective appear-
ance when naked and undisguised; and
were they left to grow wild for some years,
and the wood which might spring up pre-
served, still their distinct characters would
be apparent: in the natura] bank, the irre-
gular turns, the inlets with projections of
crumbling soil being partially concealed or
disguised by vegetation, would occasion
some degree of variety and intricacy; while
in the other, the regularity of the curves,
and the monotony of the slopes, would.
always be perceived, always have the same
insipid artificial appearance.

To take it again in another light; sup-

ose that in the same level country, the
windows of the house looked down the
reach of a natural river, both the banks
of which were completely fringed with flou-

A

57

yishing trees and underwood ; the ground on
each side beinga flat meadow as before. This
total fringe, though i in many respects very
beautiful, the owner might justly think too
‘uniform and absolute a screen. He there-
fore would observe what parts of it should
be thinned or cut down, in order to let in
the most interesting circumstances of the
ground behind, whether trees, buildings,
distant hills, or other objects ; he might in
some places smooth and slope the banks,
though not in too gardener -like a style;
and in others, allow ae trees he had cut
down to spring up again, as a present
rich covering, which might afterwards be
thinned and grouped at pleasure. In ex-
amining the banks on which this fringe
was growing, he might perhaps find that
some parts of it, from whatever cause, whe-
ther of soil having been thrown up, or from
original formation, were higher than the
rest ; and these risings, he might find, not
only produced a_ pleasing variety when
seen from the river, but hkewise made a
rich and varied termination in the view

58

from the meadow towards the water. Would
he in such a case have a thought of destroy-
ing the risings, of grubbing up the wood,
and levelling the ground, in order to pre-
serve every where the level of the meadow ?
—In searching amidst the thick underwood,
he might find large roots of trees which
projected over the water, supporting the
mould above and behind them; while the
water had washed away that below, and
formed a deep hollow beneath : by partially
clearing away some of the boughs which
concealed these roots, he might give to the
recesses below them a still greater appear-
ance of depth, and lead the eye towards
their dark shadows.* Were he to find any
large stones in the banks, or below them
near the water edge (and such are not un-
frequently to be found even in flat situa-
tions,) he would hardly think of inquiring

* Were there no other objection to Mr. Brewn’s pieces
of made-water, than that they had no deep shadows, that
would alone be a sufficient condemnation. I will not trust
myself to speak of their effects; it would lead me too far
from the present subject,

» 59
how they came there, and whether they
belonged originally to the soil, but consi-
der only how he could profit by them, or
by any other circumstances which might
produce effect and variety, without any ma-
nifest absurdity or unnaturalness.

If then it be acknowledged that these
varieties do constitute some of the prin-
cipal charms of natural rivers ; if where
they exist, are happily disposed, and mixed
with verdure and smoothness, not only
the river itself is beautiful, but the whole
country from its influence seems to par-
take of that character; and if, on the other
hand, where there is a total want of them,
there must be total monotony,—what should
prevent us from endeavouring to imitate
that which is at the same time most natural
and most delightful, instead of making
something, which has no type in nature,
and ought to have none in art? Can it~be
said that there is any real difficulty in exe-
cuting any part of what I have described,
or indeed much more than I have menti-
oned? I say in executing, for difficulty

60

there certainly is in planning and directing
what is to be a ana ee feature i ina end
landscape.

I have now very fully explained my
ideas with respect to the manner in which
the banks of water may be prepared, so
that time and accident may produce in
them those varieties and breaks, which,
when’ properly accompanied, are so much
admired by painters. I have likewise shewn
how other circumstances, usually called
picturesque, such as rocks, stones, trunks
and roots of. trees, &c. may be added to
them, and how they may be blended with
what is smooth and undulating. The last
finishing, that which gives richness, variety,
effect, and connection to the whole; that
which adds a charm to all other varieties,
and which alone, when judiciously ma-
naged, will in a great degree compensate
their absence, is planting. The connection,
and partial concealment arising from wood,
which are necessary and interesting in every
part of landscape, are peculiarly so in the
banks of water; but the degree of conceal-

61

ment which is required for the purpose of
softening rudeness, or diseuising monotony,
cannot well be efiected without a large
proportion of trees of'a lower growth. Al-
though [have dwelt so much on this sub-
ject in a former part,* I shall haye occasion
not only to apply what I have there said
to the particular points | am now discuss-
ing, but also still further to enlarge upon
it, rey |

In forming the banks of artificial water
through a fiat piece of ground, those who
absolutely condemn Mr. Brown’s regular
curves and slopes, might still widely differ
‘from each other as to the degree, and the
sort of variety that could with propriety be
introduced. One improver might like every
kind. of enrichment, even in such a situa-
tion; another only some variation in. the
height of the banks: a third, again, might
think that any such variation of the ground
itself would not accord with the flatness of
the surrounding country; and so long as

* Essay on the Picturesque,

62

artificial monotony and baldness are ex-
cluded, each of these styles may have its
merits and its beauties: but the improyer
who was least fond of variety, and who ob-
jected to any difference of height in the
banks themselves, might still wish to break
and conceal their uniformity by means of
wood. Were he, however, to plant forest
trees alone, and at the distance they ought
to remain when full grown, they would for
many years look poor and scattered ; and
were he to plant a number of them toge-
ther, they would, if left thick.as they usu-
ally are, be drawn up to poles, and the
sameness of thé graund beyond them would
be seen between their stems. Should he
cut many of them down, and let the un-
derwood grow, still that method, though of
great use, will not completely answer the
purpose ; for the underwood of forest trees
would ina few years grow tall and bare;
would require to be again cat down, again
to be guarded from animals; but thorns and
hollies continue thick and bushy, and, what
is of great conscauence, always subordi-

63

nate to the higher growths; so that with
the most pertect closeness and conceal-
ment at bottom, there may be the greatest
variety and freedom of outline at top. If
a mixture of low bushy plants be of such
use in disguising a level surface, it is no
less requisite where any risings are artifi+
cially made in the bank; for the crude
manifest attempt at artificial variety, is
much worse than natural unaffected same-
ness; and, lastly, where roots and stones
are placed for picturesque effect, a dis-
guise of low, bushy, and trailing plants, is
still more necessary.

But the advantage of this method of
planting extends much further than the
immediate banks; and as the character of
water, (considered as part of a composi-
tion) is very much affected by all the
grounds which surround it, and with which
it can be combined into the same land-
scape, some .additional remarks on_ the
planting of such grounds may not be im-
proper in this place: and indeed, as the
principal change in all places is made by

G4
means of planting, the superiority of this
method can hardly be placed in too many
points of view. Should then the ground
on each side of the water be: either’ flat;
or, what perhaps is scarcely less unvaried,
uniformly sloping, still a great: degree of
variety and intricacy may be given to: it,
by means of the style of planting:I have
just mentioned. ‘There are, for instance;
many parts of forests quite flat, yet full of
intricacy and variety: from ‘what’ cause ?
certainly from the mixture of thoris, yews;
hollies, hazles, &c. with the larger trees ;
these form thickets, which often so vas
riously cross behind each other, that the
lawns among them are bounded, yet no
one can ascertanr the‘hnes of the boundary;
the eye is limited, yet appears'to be free
and unconfined, and wanders’ into the
openings of ‘the thickets’ themselves, and
those between them. ‘Contrast all this
with’ a lawn of Mr: Brown's: the uncer-
tain and perpetually varying boundary of
the one, with the regular line of the planta-
tion or belt that hems in the other: con-

65

trast the thickets themselves, each a mode]
of intricacy and variety, with the clump of
large trees only, as perfect a model of
baldness and monotony. By planting a
- mixture of the different growths, sometimes
in large extended plantations, to be se-
parated afterwards into groups and thickets
with various inlets and openings ; some-
times in smaller masses, arranging them
so as to cross, and as it were to lap over —
each other, with passages of various
breadths between them, the variety of fo-
rest lawns might be given to those near a
house, yet the neatness of a dressed lawn
be preserved; and water so backed, would
not need a continued fringe for the pur-
pose of concealing what was. behind.
Such future groups and thickets, as they
must be prepared by being dug and
fenced, will at first look heavy and formal;
but the circumstance of ' the ‘different
growths is a sure preservative against the
incurable sameness and insulated appear-
ance of clumps, as they a are usually plant-
ed and left. |

VOL. II. _ #

66

The same reflection, which before oc-
curred in deseribing the immediate banks,
agai occurs on a more extended scale ;
namely, that this method, which can give
such diversity to an absolute flat, 1s, if
possible, still more useful where there are
slight inequalities m the midst of a large
space of lawn. A few forest trees placed
on such small swellings, look meagre and
scattered; a number of them heavy and
uniform ; and neither of them mark or ac-
cord with the character of those lesser
risings: but the lower and more bushy
plants, both agree with the size of such
swellings of ground, and humour and cha-
racterize their undulations; while a few of
the larger trees mixed with them, give va-
tiety and consequence to the general out-
‘lime. These massive, yet diversified planta-
tions, form divisions and compartments
on which the eye can dwell with pleasure;
they vary, without stuffing up, the large
uninteresting spaces of which lawns and
parks are too often composed, and from
which arises that bare and meagre same-

67
ness, so opposite to the richness and di-
versity of many of the forest lawns.

It may, perhaps, be said, that thickets,
though very proper in forests, and, per-
haps, in parks, are not in character with
a lawn, or with such dressed ground as ar-
tificial water is generally made in. 'This
opinion I wish to examine; for the notion
that a lawn, or any meadow or pasture
ground near the house, ought to be kept
quite open and clear from any kind of
thickets, has been one very princi pal cause
of the bareness I have so often had occa-
sion to censure. It is probable that the
first idea of a lawn may have arisen from
the openings of various sizes which are
found in forests and old parks, and that
these openings were the original objects of
imitation ; in copying which, im provers
have had the same degree of success, as
in their imitations of natural rivers, and
from the same cause,—that of never stud y-
ing their models. If it be true that many
of these forest lawns have every variety
that can be wished for, whether in the dis-

FQ

68

position of. their boundaries, in their
groups, or their single trees; that the
yews, thorns, hollies, &c. produce rich-
ness and concealment, and often, as far
as they are concerned, a very dressed ap-
pearance; if the larger trees add loftiness
and grandeur, while the frequent change
from thickets to trees and bushes, either
single, or in open groups, no less produces’
variety—what is the objection to making
such scenes the principal objects of study
and imitation, where similar effects are
meant to be created, and where they cer-
tainly would be admired? Should it! hap-
pen, for example, that m parts of the
rising ground of alawn intended to be highly
dressed, groups of thorns and hollies were
mixed with the oaks and beeches, is there
anyone wiih the least taste for natural beau-
ties, who would totally extirpate them,
and clear round all the larger trees?) is
there any one who would not: delight in:
such a mixture ? who would not shew it,’
as one of the most pleasing objects im that
part of his plage? If so, why not strive to

69
create, what we should be proud of if
placed by accident? With regard to
thickets not being suited to dressed
scenery, what, let me ask, are those clumps
‘of shrubs and trees of different growths,
which at Blenheim and other places, are
in the most polished parts of the garden ?
They are thickets in point of concealment,
and of variety in the outline of the sum-
mit, and so far they differ from those
clumps which are planted with the larger
trees only; their difference from the forest
thicket, is, that they are chiefly composed
of exotics, and that, from the original
line of the digging being preserved, and
- from their never having been thinned by
means of cutting, or of the bite of animals,
they remain in one.uniform round or oyal.
Were such clumps thinned, and _ inlets
made by a judicious improver, and were
the line of digging effaced, they would
soon have the variety of forest thickets :
and. on the other hand, were a forest
thicket dug round, planted up, and pre-
served, it would soon have the heaviness

70

and formality of a garden clump. The
forest thicket has, therefore, a great ad-
vantage in point of variety, and playful-
ness of outline; and perhaps, the mixture
of oak and beech, with yew, thorn and
holly, were there no other varieties, is not
inferior in real beauty to any mixture of
exotics. What then ought to be the dif-
ference between the forest thicket, and
that which might be introduced in a
lawn? Exactly the difference which cha-
racterizes the two scenes. ‘The one is wild,
rough, and neglected: the other smooth
and cultivated. In the lawn, therefore,
brambles, and briars that crawl on the
_ surface,* and whatever gives a rude and

* T have confined my remark to those plants which crawl
on the surface ; as it is from that circumstance that they
have a rude and neglected appearance, however they may
suit the painter as a fore-ground: but where any flexible
plants have climbed up trees, they are highly ornamental ;
nor can any thing be richer or gayer, than wild roses, or
clusters of berries intermixed with foliage, and hanging
from it in festoons. Then as the grass may be kept neat
about their stems, they da not give the idea ‘of slovenly
negleet,

71

neglected look, should be extirpated and
the grass encouraged; and by such means,
while the rude entangled look of a brake
is destroyed, richness, variety, and conceal-
ment, may be created, or preserved. But
even if it were a settled point that nothing
but timber trees ought to have place in a
lawn, still the best method of raising them
so as to produce present effect without fu-
ture injury, would be to mix a large pro-
portion of the lower growths, till the tim-
ber trees were grown to a sufficient size ;
' and then—if he who should then view
their effect altogether could give such an
order—every thing round them might be
cleared.

‘In speaking of artificial hillocks,* T

* The word hillock, is, I believe, in general confined to
natural swellings of ground: I have, however, the au-
thority of Mr, Mason for using it in this sense, even with-
out the addition of the word artificial. In the second book
of the English Garden, where he is giving instructions how

a flat scene may be improved, he observes that the genius
of such a scene may be “ lifted from his dreary couch” by

«« Pillowing his head with swelling Ailocks green,”

My instructions have the same tendency, though delivered
in humbler language.

72

have confined myself to those which might
be made on the immediate banks of water.
It would certainly be much more hazard-
ous to try such an experument on a more
extended surface: still, I think, that where
a great deal is to be dug out in order to
make the water,—where there is. more
earth than is wanting for the head, and
where the ground is unvaried,—such arti-
ficial risings might. be made with good ef-
fect, and without appearing unnatural. I
judge, in some degree, from what I have
seen accidentally produced: it sometimes
_ happens in stony arable grounds, that the
stones, with clods of earth, weeds, and
rubbish, have been heaped up at different
‘times, and haye formed irregular hillocks,
which, being unfit for cultivation, remain
untouched ; and trees, bushes, fern, and
gorse, spring up in many parts of them.
These hillocks are artificial: but not being
intended for beauty, they are -neither ar-
tificially formed, nor planted; and conse-
quently have the perfect appearance of
being natural. I have often been struck

75
with the great richness of such banks at a
considerable distance, and from a number
of points ; and have been surprized on exa-
mining them, to find how slight a rise of
ground, when planted by the hand of na-
ture, seemed to elevate, and give conse-
quence to that part: I have been quite de-
ceived in regard to their depth; have gone
round them, and though undeceived as to
the reality, still observed with pleasure the
same appearance. Such is the effect of
these artless plantations the fruits of acci-
dent, but which it would be the perfection
of design to imitate. Art generally op-
poses either a uniformly thick, and there-
fore a suspected screen, of one, (which to
use Milton’s language), is thin with exces-
sive thickness,* and through which the
ground behind is unpleasantly discovered ;
but in these works of accident, the many
partial openings and inlets seem to invite
the eye, while something still prevents it
from penetrating too far into their recesses,

* « Dark with excessive bright.”

74

Many different hillocks have been raised
by art, in various ways, and for various
purposes: some of them without any con-
nection with the surrounding land; yet
still, when enriched and disguised by wild,
irregular vegetation, they have, in almost
every instance, something in their appear-
ance, which few would wish to part with.
There are often likewise broad and high
ridges, formed by old meers and hedge-
rows, that interrupt the natural flow of the
ground, but which under similar circum-
stances have an equally good effect:
and I have particularly observed meadows
near rivers, uniformly surrounded with
banks of that kind, which yet formed the
most striking and pleasing features in the
whole landscape.

All these circumstances might certainly
be imitated and improved upon without
difficulty; and it is no less certain that the —
simplest execution of any of the banks
which I have described, would be a very
essential improvement to the sides of many
pieces of made water. I am very far,

-

75

however, from recommending frequent and
wanton attempts to change the surface of
ground, as | hold them to be very dan-
gerous on many accounts: for besides the
danger of their having an unnatural cha-
racter if not judiciously managed, heaps
of earth might sometimes affect the drain-
age of the land; a point of equal conse-
quence both to beauty and profit: but I
wished to shew by what means the differ-
ent varieties in ground, whether natural
or artificial, abrupt or gradual, connected
or disjoined, may at once be disguised
and set off to the greatest advantage. I
wished also to suggest, that when a quan-
tity of mould must somehow be disposed
of, it had better be employed in creating
and increasing variety, than (according to
the usual practice) in destroying that
which does exist, by filling up all inequa-
lities without distinction, and reducing the
whole to the strictest and stiffest mono-
tony.*

* The folly of attempting to create variety and pic-
turesque effect, by means of single objects without connec-~

70

it may naturally be expected, that
having entered into so much detail with
respect to the banks of artificial lakes and
rivers, I should say something of their ge-
neral shapes. I have already observed,
that the character of a lake, and not that
of a river, should in most cases be the
object of imitation, and in this opinion Iam
more and more confirmed. A lake admits
of bays and inlets in every direction ; and
where the scene is confined, every source
of variety should be sought after: a lake
is a whole, and.that whole, upon a smaller
scale, may be completely imitated: but

tion or congruity, is very pointedly ridiculed by the Abbé
de Lille in his poem on Gardens. The two lines, like
most of his verses, are easily retained, and will be recol-
lected with equal pleasure and profit—

Et dans un sol egal, un humble monticule
Veut etre pittoresque, et ne’st que ridicule.

Allthat I have said, will serve to strengthen, not to coun-
teract the force of that just satire, and the principle on
which it is founded; for I have shewn the method by
which connection may be restored, and incongruity veiled
and disguised, even where such hillocks had been formed,
and by which they may in a great degree be united with
the rest of the landscape,

77

the imitation of a river, is confined to one
or two reaches, and then it must stop.
Now one of the charms of a river, besides
the real beauty of each particular scene,
is the idea of continuance, of progression;
but that idea can hardly be excited by the
imitation of one or two reaches where its
motion is least discernible; the only parts
Which art can properly imitate. In lakes,
a great deal of the beauty arises from the
number of bays, inlets, and promontories ;
but they would counteract the idea of
continuance and progression, the hope and
expectation of which give an interest to a
river considered generally, though many
‘parts taken singly may be uninteresting.
These manifest differences between the two
characters, and, above all, the great dif-
ference between a complete and ‘an in-
complete imitation, leave, 1 think, no
doubt which deserves the preference.

The lakes which are most admired 'by
painters, are remarkable’ for the’ variety
and intricacy of their shores, and are what
an improver, where he had the opportu-

78

nity, would of course be most desirous of
studying; excellent hints, however, with
regard to the general forms of lakes, might
be taken from pools ona scale so very di-
minutive, as to excite the ridicule of those
who attend to size only, and not to cha-
racter, But .as Gainsborough used to
bring home roots, stones, and mosses, from
which he formed, and then studied fore-
grounds in miniature; and as Leonardo
da Vinci advised painters to enrich and
vary their conceptions by attending to
stains and breaks in old walls, that is, to
the lucky effects and combinations which
in the meanest objects are produced by
accident and neglect,—I may venture to
recommend many of the pools in old gra-
vel pits on heathy commons, as affording
most useful studies in this branch of land-
scape-gardening. Such lakes in iminia-
ture strongly point out the effect of acci-
dent and neglect in creating varied and
picturesque compositions, with the ad-
vantages that might be taken of such ac-
cidents; and they, likewise, shew, what

79
is by no means the least instructive part,
the process by which such forms and com-
positions are undesignedly produced. ‘The
manner in which these pits are formed,
seems to be nearly this. After a certain
quantity of gravel has been dug out, and
it becomes less plentiful, the workmen
very naturally pursue it wherever it ap-
pears; the mere mould being left, or cast
aside just as it may suit their convenience ;
and as they want the gravel and not the
surface, they pick it from under the turf,
which by that process is undermined, and
falls downwards in different degrees, and
in various breaks. Sometimes the turf
and the upper mould are taken off im or-
der to get at the gravel which lies beneath,
and are cast upon the surface of another
part, the height of which is consequently
raised above the general level; while in
places where roads had been made to
carry out the gravel, the ground is propor-
tionably low, and the descent gradual.
By means of these operations, in which no
idea of beauty or picturesque composition

80

was ever thought of, all the varieties of
smooth turf, of broken ground, of coves,
inlets, projections, islands, are often forme
ed; while the heath, broom, furze, and
low bushes, which vary the summit, are in
proportion to the scale of the whole:
and that whole is a lake in miniature cf
transparent water, surrouyded by the most
varied banks. I have often thought, that
if such a gravel pit with clear water were
near a house, the banks of it might, with
great propriety and effect, be dressed with
kalmeas, rhododendrons, azaleas, andro-
medas, &c. without any shrub too large for
its scale; and that so beautiful a lake in
miniature might be made, with every thing
in such exact proportion, as to present no
bad image of what one might ‘suppose to
be a full-sized lake in Liliput.

But there are likewise other pools on
a scale equally diminutive, the character
of which forms a singular contrast to such
as I have just-mentioned.: for as in those.
one part of the. beauty arises from the pro-
portion between the size of the water and

81

that of its accompaniments; so in the
others, a striking effect is produced by their
disproportion. These last are found in
forests and in woody commons, where the
ground is. bold and unequal: In such
places it often happens that a high broken
bank enriched. with wild vegetation, same-
times with a single tree upon it,,sometimes
with a group:of them, hangs over a small
‘pool:* in a scene of that kind, the very |
circumstance of the smallness of the water
gives a consequence to the objects imme-
diately round it, which>a larger expanse
would diminish. Another great source of
effect arises from the large mass of shadow,
which from the: overhanging bank and
trees, is reflected in so small a mirror; and

_ *This style of scenery is very poetically and characteris-
tically described by Mr. Mason | in the first book of his
English Garden: *

; , _ Nature here
, Has w ith her living colours form’d a scene
"Which Ruysdal best might rival—crystal lakes,
O’er which the giant oak, himself a grove,
- Flings his romantic branches, and beholds
His reverend image in the expanse kelow.

VOL. {I. &

82

‘also from the tints of vegetation, of broken
‘soil, and of the sky, which are revived in it.
‘All these circumstances give a surprising
richness and harmony to every thing with-
in the field of vision ; the water being as it
were the focus in which that richness and
harmony are concentered, and whence
they again seem to expand themselves on
all that surrounds it. In many gentlemen’s
places there are opportunities of producing
such effects of water with little expence or
difficulty, in no part of which a good imi-
tation of a lake or river on a large scale,
could be made at any expence. There are
hollows, for instance, in sequestered spots,
partly surrounded by such banks as I have
described, which might easily be made to
contain water: there is often a small
‘stream near such a spot, running without
any particular beauty in its own bed, but
which, by an easy change in its course,
might be made to fall into the hollow; and
thus appear to be, and really become, the
source of the still water beneath. These
easy and cheap improvements would give

85

a new and ‘lively interest to woodland
scenery, and would afford opportunities of
tryiag a variety of picturesque embellish-
ments.

Some of the most eminent painters, not
only of the Dutch and Flemish, but like-
wise of the Italian school, were particularly
fond of scenes of this kind; and our own
Gainsborough, of whom we have so much
reason to be proud, no less delighted in
painting them. The esteem of such artists
is Very much in favour of the scenes them-
selves; but the principle, on which they
give so much pleasure to those who have
learnt to observe effects in nature by means
of those which are expressed in painting,
-has been often displayed in landscapes of
the highest style, and where the scenery is
far from rude ;* and I am glad to cite such

* A very striking example of the effect of this principle
is displayed in a picture of the greatest of all landscape-
painters—Titian. It was in the Orleans collection, and
represents the bath of Diana, with the story of Acteen.
The figures, which are either in, er close to the bath,
bear the same kind ef proportion to it, as a tree of
Ruysdal or Gainsborough, daes to the small pool over

G 2

54

great and various authorities, for paying
more attention to the effect and the accom-
-paniments, than to the extent of water, as
the opposite idea has so generally and ex-
clusively prevailed.

Such indeed is the passion for extent,
that in order to gain a trifling addition
to the surface, the water is often raised
to the highest level without any attention
to the trees it may injure, or to the varieties
in the ground which it may cover: so that

which it hangs, and produce many similar effects by
the disproportion of their size to that of the water, by
their nearness to it, and by the consequent fulness of their -
shadows, and brilliancy of their reflections. The richness,
glow, and harmony which arise from these circumstances,
and which, from the revival of the colours interspersed in
Various parts of the picture, seem to diffuse themselves
from the water over the whole of it, are so enchanting, as
“to justify the highest encomiums of his countrymen, There
is, however, in a Venetian book, a compliment to one
‘of his figures, which the most sanguine admirer of the
art of painting cannot quite assent to: after praising many
parts of a famous work. of Titian at Venice, the Venetian
“author says, “at the bottom of the steps is an old woman
“with eges—assai piu naturale che se fosse viva—much
** more natural than if she was alive.”

85

instead of lying under banks well varied
and enriched, it is frequently carried up to
the uniform surface of the grass above
them. Wherever water is every where on
a level with the general surface of mere
grass, there can of course be no diversity
in its immediate banks, as is the case with
rivers that slowly flow through a continued
plain; the only kind that professed im-
provers seem to have looked at. Where
rivers descend from a hilly country into
a flat, the floods, even there, deepen their’
channels, and thereby give rise to many
varieties, which never can exist where the
stream is nearly on a level with the grass.*
This suggests to mea remark not unworthy

* The varieties which the impetuous motion of water oc-
casions, and the means by which it produces them, are very
distinctly marked in a Poem of Macchiavelli, called Capi-

-tolo della Fortuna.

Come un torrente rapido, ch’al tutto
Superbo é fatto, ogni cosa fracassa
Dovunque aggiugne il suo corso per tutto ;
E questa parte accresce, e quella abbassa,
Varia le ripe, varia il letto, il fondo,

E fa tremar la terra d’onde passa.

86

the consideration of improvers: when the
water is raised to the level of the general
surface, you can only vary the banks by
raising that surface; but when the water is
less high, you can vary the banks by low-
ering, as well as by raising them.

islands m artificial water, have in many
instances been so shaped, and so placed,
as to throw a ridicule on the use of them:
but if we once allowed ourselves to argue
from abuse, they would not be the only
imitations of natural objects that ought to
be condemned. ‘That islands are often
beautiful in natural scenery, and in a high
degree productive of variety and intricacy,
cannot be doubted ; and if it be true, that
those parts of seas and large lakes where
there are most islands (such as the entrance
of Lake Superior* or the Archipelago) are

* As the islands in Lake Superior are not as yet so cele-
brated as those in the Archipelago, I wil] quote a passage
concerning them from Morse’s American Geography,
which, at the same time that it presents a beautiful picture,
shews, likewise, how generally those circumstances on
which I have dwelt, are admired. “ The entrance into
this lake from the Straits of St. Mary, affords one of the

87

most admired for their beauty—and if the
manner in which those islands produce that
beauty, be by dividing, concealing, and di-
versifying what is too open and unilorm,
—the same cause must produce the samé
effect in all water, however the scale may
be diminished ; the same in a pool of a
gravel pit, as in an océan.

Islands, though very common in many
rivers, yet seem (if I may be allowed to say
so) more perfectly suited to the character
of lakes; and as far as there is any truth in
this idea, it is in favour of making the
latter our chief models for imitation. In
artificial water, the most difficult parts are
the two extremities, and particularly that
where the dam is placed; which, from

“ most pleasing prospects in the world. On the left may

“ be seen many beautiful little islands, that extend a consi-

« derable way before you: and on the right, an agreeable
“ succession of small points of land that project a little

“ way into the wafer, and contribute, with the islands, to

“ pender this delightful basin calm, and secure from those

“< tempestuous winds, by which the adjoining lake is fre-

“quently troubled.” Morse’s American Geography, p.

427, he

88

being a mere ridge between two levels, is
less capable of being varied to any degree
by bays and projections, or by ditierence of
height. The head, therefore, must, in, gene-
ral, be the most formal and. uninteresting
part, and that to which a break, or a dis-
guise of some kind, is most. necessary ; but
as it is likewise the place where the water
is commonly the deepest, neitiier.a projec-
tion from the land, nor an island, can easily
be made thereabouts, There are generally,
however, some shallow parts at a sufficient
distance from one of the sides, and not at
too great.a distance from the head, where.
one, or more islands might easily be
formed, so as to conceal no inconsiderable
portion of the, line of the head from many
points. In such places, and for such pur-
poses islands are’ peculiarly proper: a large
projection from the side of the real bank,
might too much break the general line;
but by this method, that bias would be
preserved, and the proposed effect be
equally produced.

It is not necessary that islands should

89

strictly correspond with the shores either in-
height or shape; for there are frequent in-
stances in nature, where islands rise high
and abruptly from the water, though the
shore be low and sloping; and this liberty
of giving height to islands may be made.
use of with particular propriety and _ effect
towards the head; which usually presents:
a flat, thin line, but little disguised or va-
ried by the usual style of planting. An
island therefore (or islands, as the case may
require) in such a situation as I have pro-
posed, with banks higher than those of the
head, abrupt in parts, with trees projecting
sideways over the water, by boldly ad-
vancing itself to the eye, by throwing back
the line of the head and shewing only part
of it, would form an apparent termination
of a perfectly new character; and so dis-
guise the real one, that no one could tell,
when viewing it from the many points
whence such island would have its ef-
fect, which was the head, or where the wa-
ter was likely toend. .

_ In forming and planting these islands, I

90

should proceed much in the same manner
as in forming the outline of the other banks.
I should stake out the general shape, not
keeping to any regular figure, and then di-
rect the labourers to heap up the earth as.
high as I meant it should be, without le-
velling, or shaping it; making allowance
for its smking, and reserving always the
best mould for the top. In the course of
heaping up the earth without sloping it, a
great deal would fall beyond the stakes, |
and would unaveidably give something of
that irregularity and play of outlime, which
we observe in natural islands: the new
earth would likewise settle, and fall down
in different degrees, and in various places ;
from all which accidents, indications how
to give greater variety might be taken. If
it be allowed that a mixture of the lower’
growths is as generally useful as f have sup-
posed, it must be particularly so in islands,
where partial concealment ts so principal
an object ; and as you can never give such
a natural appearance of underwood, and of
intricacy,-can never so humour the ground,

91

so mark its varieties, especially on a small
scale, by planting as by sowing,—it is most
advisable to. plant only what is more im-
mediately necessary, and to sow seeds and
berries of the lower growths, quite from the
lowest growths of all; and to encourage
fern, and whatever may give richness, and
naturalness. In any part where [ wished the
boughs to project considerably overthe water,
I should raise the bank higher than the rest
of the ground, and many times give it the
appearance of abruptness ; yet by means of
stones and roots, endeavour both to render
it picturesque in its actual state, and to pre-
vent any change from its being broken
down. On this high point, I should plant
one, or more of such trees as had already an
inclination to lean forward, from having
been forced in that direction by trees be-
hind them; and some of that kind are ge-
nerally to be met with, even in nurseries and
plantations. By this method, the bank, and
the trees of that part of the island, would
have a bold effect ; and in places where the
water began to deepen so much, that it

92
would be difficult to extend the island itself
any farther, its apparent breadth, and con-
sequently the concealment occasioned by it,
would in no slight degree be extended.

The best trees for such a situation, are
those which are disposed to extend their
lateral shoots, and are not subject to lose
them by decay, and which hkewise will
bear the drip of other trees ; such, for in-
stance,'as the beech, hornbeam, witch elm,
&c. or should the insular situation, not-
withstanding the height of the bank, be
found too moist for such treesy:the im-
prover will naturally choose from the va-
rious aquatics, what will best. suit his pur-
pose. Among them, the alder, }however
common, holds a distinguished, place, on ac-
count of the depth and freshness of its
green, and its resemblance, when old, to the
noblest of forest trees—the oak.* In a very

* The resemblance, when both are in full leaf, is so
strong, that I have seen many persons, who are very con-
versant with the foliage and general appearance of trees,
totally unable to distinguish them from each other; and
from having some old alders intermixed with oaks, I have
had frequent opportunities of making the experiment. This

93

different style, the plane is a tree of the
most generally acknowledged beauty; and
it may be observed, that the boughs both of
that and of the witch elm, form themselves
into canopies with deep and distinct coves
beneath them, in a greater degree than those
of almost any other deciduous trees; a form
of bough peculiarly beautiful when hanging
over water. As the aim of the planter would
be to make the whole of these trees push
forward in a lateral direction, it might often
be right to plant some other trees behind
them of a more aspiring kind, such as the
poplar; and by means of such a mixture,
together with some of the lower growths,
very beautiful groups may be formed, with-
out any appearance of affected contrast.

It, may not be useless to remark on this
occasion, that all trees, of which the foliage
is of a marked character, and the colour
either light and brilliant, or in the opposite

circumstance, added to their intrinsic merit, renders them
extremely useful, should the improver wish to produce or
continue the character of an oak. plantation, where the
ground is so moist that oaks will not flourish.

94

extreme, should be used with caution, as
they will produce light or dark spots, unless
properly blended with other shades of green,
and balanced by them. The fir tribe in ge-
-neral, has not a natural look upon islands
on a small scale; but should a mixture of
them happen to prevail on the other banks
of the water, the cedar of Libanus would
remarkably suit the situation I have just
mentioned : and that, and the pine-aster, in
place of the poplar, rising behind it from
amidst laurels, arbutus, &c. would form,
altogether, a combination of the richest
kind.
~All the plants which I have hitherto menti-
oned, are such as take root on dry land, or at
least above the surface of the water; but there
are others which grow either in the water
‘itself, or in ground extremely saturated with
moisture, and therefore must, of course, be
suited to the character of islands. These
are the various sorts of flags, the bull-rush,
the water-dock, &c. to which may be added
those plants which float upon the surface of
the water, such as the water-lily. From the

s

_

95

peculiarity of their situation and of their
forms, and from the richness of their masses,
they very much contribute to the effect of
water, and great use may be made of them
-by a judicious umproyer; particularly where
the shore is low. Ihave observedavery happy
effect from them in such low situations
towards the extremity of a pool,—that of
preventing any guess or suspicion where the
water was to end, although the end was
very near. ‘This is an effect which can only
be produced by islands, or by such plants
as root in the water; for where trees or
bushes grow on low ground, however com-
pletely they may conceal that ground by
hanging over the water, yet we know that
the land must be there, and that the water
must end; but flags or bull-rushes, being
disposed in tufts and groups behind each
other, do not destroy the idea of its conti-
nuation.

A large uniform extent of water, which
presents itself to the eye without any in-
tricacy in its accompaniments, requires to

96

be broken and diversified like a similar ex-
tent of lawn; though by no means im the.
same degree: for the delight which we re-
ceive from the element itself, compensates a
great deal of monotony. Islands, when va-
ried in their shape and accompaniments,
have the same effect as forest thickets ; cir-
cular islands, that of clumps: and the same
system which gave rise to round distinct
clumps, of course produced islands equally
round and unconnected. As the prevailing
idea has been to shew a great uninterrupted
extent, whether of grass or of water, islands
on that account have been but littlé in:
fashion : I have seldom, indeed, seen more -
than one in any piece of artificial water, and
that, apparently, made rather for the sake
of water-fowl, than for ornament. When
one of these circular islands is too near the
-shore, the canal which separates them is -
mean, and the island from most points ap-
pears like a projection from the shore itself;
and when, on the other hand, it is nearly in
the centre, (a position of which I have seen
some very ridiculous instances,) it has much

97

the same unnatural, unmeaning look, as the
eye which painters have placed in the
middle of the Cyclops’ forehead ; and that
is one of the few points on which the judg-
ment of painters seems to me to be nearly
on a level with that of gardeners: they have
an excuse, however, which I believe the
latter could never allege—that of having
been misled by the poets.

_ As the greatest part of the supposed im-
provements in modern gardening, particu-
larly with respect to water, is founded on
the principle of flowing lines and easy curves,
I will examine in what points that principle
ought to be modified ; and in what cases,
for want of such modifications, it may coun-
teract its own purposes. Hogarth, as I have
observed in a former part, has shewn the
reason why they are beautiful ; namely, “that
“they lead the eye a kind of wanton chase:”
and Mr. Burke, with his usual happiness,
has farther Ulustrated the same idea.* It

* Essay on the Sublime and Beautiful, page 216, et
passim.

VOL. II. H

98

seems to me that, according to the spirit of
both these writers, beauty, as a distinct cha-
racter, may be said more generally to arise
from soft insensible transitions than from
‘any other cause; and that this circumstance
of insensible transition, (which cannot be
expressed by any one word) is the most
comprehensive principle of vistble beauty
in its strictest acceptation: as not ‘being
confined to lines or curves of any kind, and
as extending, not only to form, but to co-
lour, to ight and shadow, and to every com-
bination of them; that is, to all visible na-
ture. Smoothness and flowing lines do
most commonly produce insensible transi-
tions; and it is chiefly on that account that
they are principles of beauty: but if partial
and comparative roughness and abruptness,
as is frequently the case in the wooded banks —
ofrivers,should more effectually promote that
end, whoever destroys them, and makes the
whole smooth and flowing, will destroy the
component parts of beauty. For instance,
a bank of mowed, or of closely-bitten grass,
ts clearly much smoother than one, gn

99

which there are oaks, thorns, and hollies:
such trees and bushes, also, break and in-
terrupt the continued flow of those sweeps,
which most nearly approach to what has
been called the line of beauty; and cer-
tainly any abruptnesses in the ground, how-
ever slight, are contrary to the idea of
beauty in its confined sense: yet a river,
even with broken ground and with rocks,
when they are softened, not concealed by
wood, so that the whole is blended together,
will not enly be more varied, more suited to
the painter, and to the genuine lover of na-
ture, but will be more strictly beautiful than
the finest turf and the most artfully formed
curves, without similar accompaniments of
trees and bushes; for such curves, from their
distinctness and their nakedness, present no-
thing but hard, formal lines. All this to me
is a proof, that imsensible transitions, and
not any particular lines or curves, are the
means by which beauty in landscape is
chietly effected ; for I will venture to assert,
that whenever in natural scenery a line of
beauty is made by rule, it will most as-
H 2

160

suredly be unworthy of its name. Still,
however, the alliance between flowing lines
and insensible transitions, may be shewn
from. these very curves of artificial water ;
for if, in addition to the defects of uninter-
rupted smoothness and bareness, the outline
of the bank were to be cut into angles, the
sharpness of such an outline would be en-
creased in proportion. 1

In places where the grounds have been
dressed on Mr. Brown’s system, particu-
larly in those where water has been intro-
duced, the most inveterate defect seems to
me to be this,—that the want of variety and
intricacy as well as of connection, which
is apparent at the first glance, and which
takes off from the pleasure arising from
neatness and verdure, is more disgustingly.
apparent at every step. On the other hand,
one of the greatest charms of a beautiful.
piece of natural scenery, is, that while the
general effect and character are strictly
beautiful, the detail is full of variety and in-
tricacy: and that is the case in a greater or
less degree, in all beautiful scenes in nature,,

101

even in those of a simple kind. | ‘his most
essential difference may easily be accounted
for. ‘Nature (for we are in the habit of
considering her asa real, and_ reflecting
agent) forms a beautiful scene, by combin-
ing objects, whatever they may be, in such
a manner, as ‘that no sudden or abrupt tran-
sition either in form or colour, should strike
the eye: this I take to be a just definition
of beauty in landscape whether real or
painted, especially if we suppose a similar
character of light and shadow. Now, Mr.
Brown has attempted to produce beauty in
‘seenery, on a totally opposite plan—that of
attending to particulars, and neglecting ge-
neral composition, effect, and character. In
the works of nature, many of the particulars
are often rough and abrupt; yet each scene,
as a whole, impresses an idea of the most
pleasing variety, softness, and union. In
Mr. Brown’s works, the particulars are
smooth and flowing ; the effect and charac-
ter of the whole hard, unvaried, and uncon-
nected. Variety and intricacy are, in truth,

102

essential qualities of beauty ;* and whoever,
like Mr. Brown, deprives beauty of them,
leaves a mere caput. mortuum: and he, who,
also. like him, destroys, or neglects con-
nection, leaves out the most essential’ requi-
site in: every style of scenery. It may like-
wise be observed, that the circumstances
which produce variety and; intricacy (such
for instance as. the different accempani-
ments, of natural rivers) serve likewise to
produce connection); and) with connection,
that union and. harmony, without which,
beauty. in. landscape cannot exist.

But, it may, be. said, iff this mixture: of
comparative roughness and abruptness: may
in some cases (as In. the instance-just given
of a wooded, river), conduce more: tor the
beautiful, than smoothness.and flowin@lines
alone, what would. then be: the. distinction
between: sucha river,and a picturesque one?
I must: begin: by repeating what Ihave. be-

* Not of a sudden and abrupt kind. I have endeayoured
in a former part to explain the difference between beaut:ful
and picturesque intricacy.

103
fore observed, that thie two characters are
ravelly initixed i) nature, and should not be
ulliiixed’ iivart. itil wooded‘river, Lhave
supposed’ roughness dnd abruptiess to be
so Bletided! with the ingredients’ of beauty,
antl Fideness to Ke so" disguised, as to pra-
duéé altovether those’ insensiblé transitions,
in Whieh, according to my ideas, consists
the justest, and most comprehensive’ princi-
ple of the beautiful in landscape. The whole,
then, assumes the soft and mild character
of beauty. But should any of these rough,
abrupt parts be more strongly marked ;
should the rocks and the broken ground
distinctly appear, and their lines be such as
a painter would express by firm, decided,
forcible touches of his pencil—then the
picturesque would begin to prevail: and in
proportion as that distinct and marked
roughness and abruptness increased, so far
the character of the beautiful would de-
crease. If, again, this distinctness and rude-
ness were carried beyond a certain point,
the scene would probably become neither
beautiful nor picturesque, but merely scat-

104

tered, naked, deformed, or desolate. These
instances may shew, that it would be no less
absurd to make picturesque scenes without _
any mixture of the beautiful, (and the cau,
tion at some future period may not be un-
necessary,) than to attempt what has so
long, and so idly been attempted—to make .
beautiful scenes, without any mixture of the
picturesque.

ON

THE DECORATIONS

NEAR

THE HOUSE.

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ESSAY

Ok THE
DECORATIONS NEAR THE’ HOUSE:
—_—_—_——-

I HAVE: contracted! a’ sort'of engagement’
with thie’ public, to’ give’ my’ ideas' on: the
subject’ mentioned! in the title—on the De+
corations near the House; iti: wat may. pro»
perly be called the Garden: I must’ own it
is' an’ engagement’ DP feel. great difficulty i’
fulfilline. ‘The works’ of painters-furttish va¥
rious examples of' /andscapesin every styles’
of models which have been sanctioned By’
constant and’ getieral'approbation: to these,
therefore, the Jéindscapes: of! a place} with:
some allowances; may be referred} But'of

108

the embellishments of gardens, the examples
given in pictures ‘are comparatively few;
and also the influence of fashion, which
has little or no effect on the character of
landscapes, with respect ‘to them is very
powerful.

There is another circumstance which ren-
ders the task more difficult : namely, that
from. this influence of fashion, and the par-
ticular influence of Mr. Brown, models of
old gardens are in this country, still scarcer
in reality than in painting ; and therefore
what good parts there may be in such gar-
dens, whether proceeding from original de-
sign, or from the changes. produced by time
and accident, can no longer be observed:
and yet from these specimens of ancient -
art, however they may be. contemned as
old-fashioned, many decorations might cer-
tainly be taken, and blended with such mo-
dern improvements: as really deserve the
name. ’
_ What appears to me the great defect of
modern gardening in the confined sense, is
exactly what has given them their greatest

109

reputation ; an affectation of simplicity, of
mere nature; a desire of banishing all em-
bellishments of art, where art ought to be
employed, and even in some degree dis-
played. On this account, I have always
been sorry that Mr. Mason should have be-
gun his Poem on English Gardening, by an
address to Simplicity: not that simplicity is
not fully deserving of all our homage, but
that it is more than useless to enforce the
practice of any one virtue, even where its
excess is least dangerous, when the general
tendency is towards that excess. Mr. Mason
has also given her a jurisdiction, to which,
in'my opinion, she is by no means entitled ;
he has made her “ arbitress of all that’s
“ good and fair.” Simplicity as a character,
may, I think, be opposed, to what is en-
riched and ornamented; there is, indeed,
no one word appropriated to that opposite
character; but in painting (and perhaps in
other arts) it might, without impropriety, be
termed Richness. A striking example of
their opposition may be found in the
works of Rubens, contrasted with those of

110

Poussin after he had neglected colouring,
and thought only of the antique. Let any
one who is acquainted with the pictures of
those two great artists, reflect how justly
the terms of richness and simplicity will
apply to the respective styles of their com-
position, colouring, and light and shadow;
to thew manner of disposing and draping
their figures, and of producing the general
effect of the whole. Had simplicity been
the arbitress, Poussin would have been the
only model; and what we most admire in
the works of Rubens. and of many other
masters, could net:have existed. The Vene-
tian school owes that richness of colouring
in which it surpasses all others, to the break-
ing, or corruption of colours; which Sir J. —
Reynolds opposes to the simplicity and se-
verity of the unbroken colours of the Roman
school: and from that circumstance, and
from the splendour of their decorations, he
calls the Venetian, the ornamental style.
Those splendid decorations the Roman
school justly excluded from the higher style
gf painting: but from what have we ex-

eee!

eluded them? from .ornamental gardens ;
from gardens, of which it is the peculiar
und characteristic distinction, that they
are ornamental, and nothing else; and
therefore, in dtahan, the mame gigrdino is
appropriated solely to them, and never (as
garden in English, or jardis in French)
made to signify either kitchen, or pleasure
garden. I must say, therefore, with all the
respect due to Mr. Mason, that to make
simplicity the arbitress of ornament, js, 1p
my idea, like making mercy the arhitress of
justice, or frugality of generosity. Jt is a
very proper and natural sentiment, that
mercy should temper the stern qualities of
justice, in the same manner that simplicity
should correct aud temper the profusion and
glitter of ornament; but the sages of the law
would, I believe, think it an extraordinary.
position, were any author to assert that
mercy is the arbitress of what is just and
sight, On the ether hand,.it is equally ob-.
vious that the firmness of justice, should
correct the mildness, however amiable, of
mgrcy; aad that ip the same mapper the

112

splendour of ornament should give spirit
and’ variety, to the uniform, though grand
and touching character of simplicity. .
‘Where ‘architecture, even of the simplest
kind, is employed in the dwellings of man,
art must be manifest; and all artificial ob-
jects may certainly admit, and in many in-
stances require the accompaniments of art;
for to go at once from art to simple un-
adorned nature, is too sudden a transition,
and wants that sort of gradation and con-
eruity, which, except in particular: cases,
is so necessary in all that is to please the
eye and the mind. Many years are elapsed
since I was in Italy, but the impression
which the gardens of some of the villas near
Rome made upon me, is by no means ef-
faced; though I could have wished to have
renewed it, before I entered upon this sub-
ject. I remember the rich and magnificent
effects of balustrades, fountains, marble ba-
sons, and statues, blocks of ancient ruins,
with remains of sculpture, the whole mixed
with pines and cypresses. [remember also
their effect, both as an accompaniment to

115

the architecture, and asa cana to the
distance.

These old gardens were laid out formally :
“that is, with symmetry and regularity : for
‘they were to accompany what was regular

and symmetrical. They were ‘full of decora-
‘tions, for they were to accompany what
“was highly ornamented ; and 'their decora-
tions, in order that they might accord with
those of the mansion, partook of sculpture
and architecture. Those who admire un-
disguised symmetry, when allied with the
splendour and magnificence of ‘art, will be
‘most pleased ‘with such gardens, when kept
-up according to their original design: those,
‘on the other hand, who may wish for an
.addition of more varied and picturesque cir-
cumstances, will find them in many of those
-old'igardens whenever they have been ne-
glected ; for the same causes which giveia
picturesque character to buildings, give it
‘also to architectural gardens.* ‘The ‘first
‘step towards it is the partial concealment of
IE by the breaks and apne:

ay

™ Essay on the Picturesquel chap. te ag
VOL. II. {

114

that amse from an irregular mixture of ve-
getation; as of trees and shrubs, or of viness
ivy, and other creeping plants which climb
up the vases, steps, and balustrades: at the
Villa Negroni I remember being particularly
struck with many of these circumstances,
/ which have since, to the extreme regret of
- all the artists, been destroyed. ‘The more
broken, weather-stained; and decayed the
‘stone and) brickwork, the more the plants
and creepers seem to have fastened and
rooted in between their joints, the more pic-
oturesque these gardens become : and in that
respect they have to the painter’s eye an
immense advantage over modern gardens,
«from which all present decoration, and, all
- future picturesqueness, are equally banished.
- But between the original design, and such
an extreme change, there are many inter-
mediate states; as there are likewise many
intermediate degrees between the wild and
singular irregularity of those plants which
seem to start from the old walls, and: the ele-
gant forms of vegetation that no less fre-
quently are produced by accident. Alk

115

these different states and degrees, may furs
nish very instructive lessons in this ale
lar part of improvement.

“Tam aware of a very obvious misrepre-
sentation of what I have just been stating,
and by anticipating may perhaps guard
against it. It might very possibly be said,
that according to my ideas, and in order to
please the painter, a new garden ought to
be made, not only in imitation of an old
garden, but of an old one in ruin, and with
every mark of decay. I will here repeat,
what I have observed before on a similar
occasion,—that it is not by copying parti-
culars, but by attending to principles, that
— lessons become instructive. In studying the
effects of neglect and accident, éither in
wild scenes, or in those which have been
cultivated and embellished, the landscape-
painter thinks of his own art only, in which
rudeness and negligence are often sources
of delight; but the landscape-gardener, who
unites the two arts if not the two professions,
must attend to them both: and while in all
eases he keeps strongly in his mind the ge-

12

116

neral principles of painting, he must not ne-
glect either the principles, or the practice of
gardening. He will therefore in the execu-
tion, omit, or modify many of those circum-
stances, that may be suited to the canvass
only. ) | |

I have always been of opinion, that the
two professions ought to be joined together,
and I lately heard an anecdote which con-
firmed me in that idea. I was told, that
when Vanbrugh was consulted about the
garden at Blenheim, he said, “ you must
send for a landscape-painter ;” a very natu-
ral answer to come from him, who, as Sir
_ Joshua Reynolds observes, has of all archi-
tects most attended to painter-like effects.
As he did attend so much to those effects
in his buildings, I cannot help regretting
that he did not turn’ his thoughts towards
the embellishments of the garden, as far as
they might serve to accompany his archi-
tecture; which, though above all others open
to criticism, is above most others striking in
its effects. A garden .of Vanbrugh’s, even
in idea, will probably excite as much ridi-

7

cule as his real buildings have, done, and
none ever excited more: but I am con-
vinced that he would have:struck out many;
peculiar and characteristic effects; and that
a landscape-gardener who really deserved.
that name, would have touched with cau-
tion’ what he had idone, and: would have
availed himself of many parts of such a gar-
den. Now, indeed, had such.a garden ex-
isted, we might only know it by report ; for
it is highly probable that Mr. Brown, unless
restrained by the owner, would have so com-
pletely demolished the whole, as to “ leave
not a rack behind.”*

But though Vanbrugh did not visilie what
may properly be called a garden at Blen-

* T should be sorry to be thought guilty of any unfairness
to Mr. Brown; but I can only judge of what it is probable
he would have done, by what he usually has done, and'by
the general tendency of his system: nor’ do! think it unfair
to suppose, that where these are instances of his having
spared old gardens or ayenues, some resolute: owner of a

more eularged mind

“ The little tyrant of his place withstpod,” eoilois!

1%

118

heim, he made a preparation for one, a sort
of architectural foreground to his building,
which, in consequence of the modern taste
in improvement, has been entirely destroyed:
as I never saw it while it existed, nor even
any representations of it, I do not pretend
to say that there may not have been very
good reasons. against preserving every part
of it; but Ishould greatly doubt, whether
a sufficient motive could have been assigned
for destroying the whole.

I may perhaps haye spoken more feelingly
on this subject, from haying done myself,
what I so condemn in others,—destroyed an
old-fashioned garden. It was not indeed in
the high style of those I have described, but

Had I happened to have seen the noble avenue of oaks I
mentioned in aformer part,* standing entire, and neither
clumped nor defaced, and to have simply heard that Mr.
Brown had been employed, I should naturally have given
him credit for so judicious a forbearance. .But at the time
I saw the trees, | was told by the owner, himself, that he
had resolitely preserved, what Mr. Brown had as peremp-
torily condemned ; proposing (if I remember right) to plant
Jarches in their room. #

. * Essay on the Picturesque, part 2, chap. 1.

119
it had many circumstances of a similar kind.
and effect: as I have long since perceived |
the advantage which I could have made of
them, and how much I could have added to
that effect ; how well I could in parts.have.
mixed the modern style, and have altered .
and concealed many of the stiff and glaring
formalities, I have long regretted its destruc-
tion. 1 destroyed it, not frony disliking it;
on the contrary, it was a sacrifice I made
against my own sensations, to the prevailing .
opinion. I doomed it and all its embellish. .
ments, with which I had formed such an.
early connection, to sudden and total de-
struction ; probably much upon. the same.
idea, as many a man of careless, unreflect-
ing, unfeeling good-nature, thought it his
duty to vote for demolishing towns, pro-
vinces, and their inhabitants, in America:
like me (but how different the scale and the
interest !) they chose to admit it as a prin-
ciple, that whatever obstructed the prevail-
ing system, must be all thrown down, all laid
prostrate ; no medium, no conciliatory me-

120:

thods were’ to be tried, but whatever nie :
follow; destruction must precede.: |
‘I remember, ‘that: even this. garden. (ool
infinitely inferior to those of Italy) had:an:
airof deeotation and of gaiety, arising from
that decoration ; wn air paré, a distinction
froia’ mere 'unembellished nature, which, ;
whatever the advocates: for extreme sim-'
plicity' may allege, is surely essential to an’
ornamented garden: all the beauties of un-
dulating ground, of shrubs, and of verdwre,"
are to te found in places where no art has®
ever been employed, and consequently cane’
not bestoiw'a distinction which they do not
possess : for, as I have before remarked,*
they must’ themselves in some respects be
considered as unembellished nature.
-Among’ other circumstances, I have a
strong recollection of a raised terrace, seen.
sideways from that im front of the house, in
the middle of which was a flight of steps:
with iron rails, and an arched recess below
it, backed by a wood: these steps con=

,* Letter to Mr. Repton, p. 91, Ist edit.—102, 2d edit.

121

ducted you from the terrace into a lower
compartment, where there was a mixture of.
_ fruit-trees, shrubs, and statues, which though
disposed with some formality, yet formed a
dressed foreground to the woods; and with
a little alteration would have richly and hap-
pily blended with the general landscape.

It has been. justly observed, that. the
love of seclusion and safety is not less na-
tural to man, than that of liberty; and our
aheestors have left strong proofs of. the
truth of that observation... In many old
places, there are. almost as many walled
compartments without, as: apartments with-
in doors ; and: though there is no defending
the beauty of brick walls, yet still that ap-
pearance of seclusion and safety, when it can
be so contrived as notto interfere with ge-
neral beauty, is a pomt well worth obtain-
ing; and no man is mere ready than myself
to allow that the comfortable, is a principle
which should never be neglected. On that
account all walled gardens and compart-
ments near a house; all warm, sheltered,
sunny walks under walls planted with fruit-

122

trees, are greatly to be wished ‘for: and
should be preserved, if possible, when once»
established. I, therefore, regret extremely,
not only the compartment I: just mentioned,
but another garden immediately beyond it =)
and I cannot forget the sort of curiosity
and surprize that was excited after a short
absence, even in me, to whom it was fami-
liar, by the simple and common circum-
stance of a door that led from the first com-~
partment to the second, and the pleasure I
always experienced on entering that inner,
and more secluded garden. ‘There was no-
thing, however, in the garden itself to excite
any extraordinary sensations: the middle
part was merely planted with the lesser
fruits, and dwarf trees, but on the opening
of the door, the lofty trees of a fine grove:
appeared immediately over the opposite
wall; the trees are still there, they are more
distinctly and openly seen, but the striking
impression is gone. On the right was ano-
ther raised terrace, level with the top of the
wall that supported it; and over-hung with
shrubs, which from age had- lost their for-

125

mality. A flight of steps of a plainer kind,
with a mere parapet on the sides, led up to
this upper terrace underneath the shrubs
and exotics.

All this gave me emotions in my youth,
which I long imagined were merely those
of early habit; but I am now convinced
that was not all: they also arose from a
quick succession of varied objects, of va-
ried forms, tints, hghts and shadows; they
arose from the various degrees of intricacy
and suspense that were produced by the no
less various degrees and_ kinds of conceal-
ment, all exciting and nourishing curiosity,
and all distinct in their character from the
surrounding landscapes. I will beg my
reader’s indulgence for going on to trace a
few other circumstances which are now no
more. ‘These steps, as I mentioned before,
led to an upper terrace, and thence through
the little wilderness of exotics, to a summer-
house, with a luxuriant Virginia. creeper
growing over it: this summer-house and the
¢reeper—to my great sorrow at the time, te

124 |

my régret ever since,'to.my great surprize
at this moment, and: probably to that of my
reader—I pulled. down; for I was told that
it interfered so much with the levelling of the
ground, with its flowing line and undnla-
tion, in' short, with the prevailing system,
that it could not stand. Beyond this again,
as the last boundary of the garden, was a
richly worked iron gate at the entrance of
a solemn. grove ; and they both, in no small
degree, added to each other’s effect. This
gate, and the summer-house, and most of
the objects I have mentioned, combined to
enrich the view from the windows and from
the home terrace. What is there now?
Grass, trees, and shrubs only.. Do I feel
the same pleasure, the same interest in this .
ground? Certainly not. Has it now a .
richer and more painter-like effect as a. fore-
ground? I think not by any means; for
there were formerly many detached pieces
of scenery which had an air of comfort and
seclusion within themselves, and at the same
~ time formed a rich foreground to the near

”

125

and more’ distant woods, and to the remote
distance.*

All this was sacrificed to undulation of
ground only; for shrubs and verdure were
not wanting before. ‘That undulation might
have been so mixed in parts with those de-
corations and abruptnesses, that they would
have mutually added to each other’s charms:
but I now. can only lament what it is next
to impossible to restore; and can only re-
flect, how much more difficult it is to add
any of the old decorations to modern im-
provements, than to soften the old style by
blending with it a proper portion of the
new. My object (as far as I had any de-
terminate object besides that of being in the
fashion) was, I imagine, to restore the
ground to what might be supposed to have
been: its original state; I probably have in
some degree succeeded, and, after mucli
difficulty, expence, and dirt, I have made it

* The remark of a French writer may very justly be ap-
plied to some of these old Gardens—* L’agreable y etait
“ souvent sacrifié a lutile, et en general Vagreable y gagna.”

196

look like many other parts of mine and of
all beautiful grounds; with but little to
mark the difference between what is close
to the house, and what is at a distance from
it; between the habitation of man, and thaf
of sheep.

If I have detained the reader so toiie in
relating what personally concerns’ myself, I
did it, because there is nothing so useful to
others, however humiliating to ourselves, as
the frank confession of our errors, and of
their causes.. No man can equally with
the person who committed them, impress
upon others;the extent of the mischief done,
and the regret that follows it ; can compare
the former, with the present state, and what
might have been, with what has been done.
I cannot flatter myself that my example
will be followed by many statesmen: but
were the ministers who. undertook the ma-
nagement of rash, impolitic wars to be
a with a fit of repentance, and, for the
sake of making some reparation, to, write
their confessions ; were they to give a frank
detail of their errors ‘(if they deserve no

127

worse a name,) and of the various times
when their mind. possibly recoiled at what
they were executing; and how thew own
ambition, and the blind, unrelenting power
of system goaded them on, though they.
then felt how easily those countries, whose
mutual enmity they kept up, might have
coalesced, and added to each other’s happi-
ness aud prosperity—such a detail of dark
and crooked manceuvres—so useful a testa-
ment politique, would almost atone for the
crimes which it recorded. With respect to
my confession, it may be said that, having
made it, I have little right to censure Mr.
Brown if he has committed the same errors.
Iwill not plead, what might well be alleged,
youth and inexperience ; the true plea, the
true distinction is, that he was a professor,
that. he acted in a public capacity, and
that, therefore, every act of his is open to
“public criticism: nor will I so far under-
value what I have done, for the sake of
shewing in a stronger light what I ought
not to have undone, as not to allow that
many beauties have arisen from the change.

128

It is the total change, it is the ¢oral de-
struction I regret, even of a garden so infe-
rior to those that I remember in Italy,
though with many of the same kind of de-
corations.

I have hitherto spoken of these old gar-
dens merely from my own opinion and feel-
‘ing; it is right to shew that their excellence
may with great probability be grounded on
much higher authority, and still more so to
point out, as far as I am capable, on what
principles that excellence is founded: for
without some principles, clearly discernible
in the thing itself, mere authority, however
high, is insufficient. I know very little of
the history of the old Italian gardens, and
of their dates; but it is probable that seve-
ral of them, which may have served as mo-
dels for those of later times, were made
during the most flourishing period of paint-
ing: and as some of the greatest painters
were likewise architects, and were employed
by their patrons in making designs for the
houses of their villas, it is not mprobable
that they might have been consulted about

129

—-

the gardens. The most eminent sculptors,
also, who of course understood all the prin-
ciples of design, if not of painting, embel-
lished those gardens with statues, fountains,
vases, &c.; and where men so skilled in their
different lines, and with such exalted ideas
of art in general were employed, they would
hardly suffer mean and discordant parts to
be mixed with their works.

Among the earlier painters, Michael An-
gelo, Raphael, and Giulio Romano, were ar-
chitects as well as painters. I do not happen
to know whether the house at the Villa
D'Este was designed by M. Angelo, but
(what is much more to my purpose) he is
generally supposed to have planted the
famous cypresses in the garden of that Villa.
Raphael, I believe, gave one part of the de-
sign for the Villa Madama, and might pos-
sibly have been consulted about its accom-
paniments : for as the little.grotesques with
birds, insects, flowers, trellices, and all the
minute ornaments of the Loggia were de-
signed under his eye, and serve to accom-
pany his sublime historical compositions,

VOL. II. K

180

there is nothing absurd im supposing that he
might-have given some attention to the de-
corations of a garden. G. Romano, the
most distinguished among the moderns for
a highly poetical genius in painting, did not
disdain to make drawings for the Duke of
Mantua’s plate; and therefore could not
have thought it a degradation of his art to—
have designed such a garden, as would. best
accompany and set off his owm archi-
tecture. ‘That style of gardenmg therefore,
and those decorations which men of such
eminence possibly may have designed, and
certainly did not disdain to associate with
their own designs, ought not to be treated
with contempt and be totally banished, to
make way for the productions of a Kent,
or a Brown.

Having shewn the possibility at least of
such high authorities for the excellence of
the old Italian gardens, I will now endea-
vour to point out what I conceive to be the
principles on which’ that excellence is
founded.

131

All persons, whether they have reflected
upon the subject or not, are universally
pleased with smoothness and flowing lines;
and thence the great and general popu-
larity of the present style of gardening:
but on the other hand those who have paid
any attention to scenery, are more struck
with sudden projections and abruptnesses:
more struck, for instance, with rocks, pre-
cipices, and cataracts, than with meadows,
swelling hills and woods, and gentle rivers;
for in all such rugged abrupt forins, though
they may be only picturesque, there is still
a tendency towards the sublime; that is,
towards the most powerful emotion of the
human mind.* 'The great pomt, not merely
in improvements, but in all things that are
designed to affect the imagination, is to
mix according to circumstanees, what is
striking, with what is simply pleasing. ‘This
-seems the principle in architecture. Por

* Essay oft the Picturésque, chap. 4:

K 2

132

ticos, cornices, &c. are sudden projections ;
but then they differ from what is merely
picturesque in their symmetry and regu-
larity; and with respect to ornaments,
those of the Corinthian capitals, as well as
all friezes and raised work of every kind,
though they are sharp and broken, yet are
regularly so, and many of them consist of
the most beautiful curves and flowing lines.
The same principle seems to have been
studied in many of the old Italian gardens.
Terraces, flights of steps, parapets, &c. are
abrupt; but they are regular, and symme-
trical: their abruptness produces bold and
striking effects of light and shadow; less
bold and varied indeed than those which
arise from irregular abruptness, as from
rocks and broken ground, but infinitely
more so than those which proceed from
smoothness and flowing lines. These strong
effects are peculiarly useful in the fore-
ground; both because there the eye re-
quires a more marked and decided cha-
racter, and, likewise, because they throw

133

off the softer lines, tints, and shadows of
the distance. ‘The old decorated fore-
grounds were manifestly artificial, and
therefore by modern improvers may be
reckoned formal; but there is a wide dif-
ference between an avowed and character-
istic formality, and a formality not less
real, but which assumes the airs of ease
and playfulness—between that which is
disguised by the effect of high dress and
ornament,* and that whose undisguised
baldness has no air of decoration to con-
ceal, or ennoble its character. I will en-
deavour to explain this by an example:

A broad dry walk near the house is indis-

* There is an anecdote of Lord Stair, when Ambassador
at the Court of France, so characteristic of the effect of
high and dignified formality in dress and appearance, that
though it may be familiar to many of my readers, I cannot
forbear mentioning it. Lord Stair was determined, upon
system, to treat Louis XIV. with some degree of arro-
gance, and endeavour to bully him. Upon trial, however,
he could not go through with it; and, afterwards, in giving
au account of bis intention and his failure, he said, “J’avoue
* que Ja vieille machine m’a imposé,”

134

pensable to the comfort of every gentleman's
habitation: in the old style such walks were
very commonly paved ; in the modern, they
are generally gravelled: but the great dif-
ference in their character arises from their
immediate boundaries. That of the gravel
walk is of pared ground, than which nothing
can be more meagre or formal, or have a
poorer effect. in a foreground; and however
the line may be broken and disguised by
low shrubs partially concealing its edge, it
still. will be meagre; and if the grass be
suffered to grow over those edges more —
strongly than in the other mowed parts, it
will look slovenly, but neither rich, nor pic-
turesque. But the paved terrace, in its
least ornamented state, is bounded by a
parapet; and the simple circumstance of
hewn stone ahd a coping, without any far-
ther addition, has a finished and determined
form, together with a certain massiveness
which is wanting to the other ; on, which ac-
count, and from the epposition of its colour
to the hue of vegetation, such mere walls
are sometimes introduced ‘as parts of the

135

foreground by the greatest painters. When
the walk before the door is of gravel, and
that gravel is succeeded by the mowed grass
of the pleasure ground, and that again by
the crass of the lawn, nothing can be more
insipid: if broken by trees and shrubs only,
however judiciously they may be disposed,
still the whole makes a comparatively flat
and unvaried foreground, whether it be
viewed in looking at, from, or towards the
house. But when architectural ornaments
are introduced in the garden immediately
about the house—however unnatural raised
terraces, fountains, fights of steps, parapets,
with statues, vases, balustrades, &c. may be
called—however our ancestors may have
been laughed at (and I was much diverted,
though not at all convinced by the ridicule)
for “ walking wp and down stairs in the open
air,’ *—the effect of all thosé objects is very
striking; and they are not more wnnatural
that is not more artifieial, than the houses
which they ure mtended to accompany.

* Mi Walpole on Modern Gardening,

136

. ‘

Noristheirownformand appearancesingly
to be considered, for their influence extends
to other objects. Whatever trees are mixed
with them, whether pines and cypresses, or
the many beautiful varieties with which our
gardens abound, they give a value to the
tints of vegetation which no opposition be-
tween trees of different sorts can give to
each other; and this is a consideration of
no small moment. ‘The contrast that arises
from the tint of stone, either worked, or in
its natural state (and the same may be said
of many tints of broken ground) has the
great advantage of detaching objects from
each other by a marked difference of form,
tint, and character, but without the smallest
injury to general harmony ; whereas strong
contrasts in the colours of foliage, of flowers,
and of blossoms, destroy harmony, without
occasioning either the same degree, or kind
of distinction.

I have already mentioned the superiority
of the terrace walk in.its simplest state with
a mere parapet, over the gravel walk with
its pared edge of grass, as an immediate

137

foreground ; and it is clear that one cause
of that superiority is the contrast between
the colour of stone, and the tints of vegeta-
tion. ‘The inferiority of the gravel walk in
such a situation proceeds likewise from an-
other circumstance: its boundary is not
only meager as well as formal, but is inca-
pable of receiving any ornament, or of being
varied with any effect. ‘The parapet, on
the contrary, admits of a great degree of
ornament, and also, what is very material,
of a mixture of the light and pliant forms
of vegetation, with th. uniform unbending
substance of stone, and the enrichment of
the sculptor. Should the solid wall be
thought too heavy—a balustrade, without
destroying the breadth, gives a play of light
and shadow of the most striking kind, which
occurs in the works of all the painters: on
the top of the coping, urns, vases, flower-
pots, &c. of every shape and size find their
place ; vines, jasmines, and other beautiful
and fragrant climbing. plants, might add
their loose festoons to those imitated in
sculpture, twining round and between the

138

balusters, clustering on the top, and varying
the height of the wall in every style and
degree that the painter might direct. In the
summer, oranges, myrtles, and “ each plant
of firm and fragrant leaf” would most hap-
pily mix with them all; and vases of elegant
forms, as well as the plants contained im
them, would add to the general richness
and variety.

I will here add, as a farther illustration
of this subject, that a bank im its broken
and picturesque state has the same advan-
tage in giving effect to whatever plants are
placed upon it, as the ornamented parapet
and many other ornamented parts of the old
gardens, and upon the same principle. The
only difference is, that in the one case every
thing 1s regular ; in the other irregular. A
smooth bank, uniformly and regularly
sloped, is in ground, what a mere wall ism
building; «neat and finished, but» totally
without variety. On the other hand, the
overhanging coping, the cornice or mould-
ing, projections) of every kind with thei
correspondent» hollows; answer ‘tocthe pro-

,

139

jections and coves, which accident produces
in neglected banks, ‘The various inequa-~
lities in the sides and summits of such
banks, whether arising from mould depo-
sited there, from large stones or bits of rock
whence the mould has been washed away,
from old trunks of trees, and other rude
objects,* correspond, in their general effect
of diversifying the outline, with the vases,
urns, flower-pots, &c. The stronger divi-
sions of the roots of trees, from which the
soil has érumbled away, and left them in-

* A large old knotty trunk of a tree would generally be
rooted up in any part meant to be improved, even at a dis-
tance from the house, much more if near it; in my idea,
however, great advantage might be taken of objects of that
kind, even in a pleasure ground. Such a knotty trunk
adorned, and half concealed by honeysuckles, jasmines, and
roses, reverses the image of [ole dressed in the lion’s skim :
it is the elub of Hercules adorned by her with wreaths of
flowers. ole herself is the best example of the union of
the beautiful with the picturesque; as likewise of the true
cause of the sublime, and of its distinction from the last-
mentioned character. The spoils of the most terrible of
animals, the warlike accoutrements of the most renowned
of heroes, being divested of terror, only serve to heighten
the effect of beauty.

140

sulated and detached, may be compared to
the openings made by balustrades ; or if the
fibres be smaller and more intricate, to the
open work and foliage of gates or palisades
in wrought iron. All these, in either case,
accord with the general principle of orna-
ment, as being in various degrees and styles,
raised or detached from the surface: some
broad, and massy ; some minute, light, and
intricate ; but in the one case, from being
regular and symmetrical, they are consi-
dered as ornaments; in the other, from
being uregular, and not designed by art,
they are very commonly destroyed or con-
cealed, as deformities.

I have already described the effect of
mixing the fresh tints, and pliant forms of
vegetation, with vases, balustrades, &c. in
a former part of my Essay, as also their
effect when mixed with trunks and roots of
trees, and when hanging over the coves or
the projections of a picturesque bank.* |
will now add, that in such a bank every

* Essay on the Picturesque, chap. 2.

141

break, every cove, every projection, is an
indication, where some tree, shrub, climb-
ing, or trailing plant, may be placed with
immediate effect :* whereas in a bank sloped
by art, there is no motive of preference,
nothing to determine the choice; and there-
fore in such banks, it is very natural that
the plantations should have the same mo-
notony as the ground on which they are
planted. This holds in an equal degree in
all smooth and levelled ground, and this”
one cause of the general monotony of mo-
dern improvements acts doubly ; for in all
broken picturesque banks, whatever their
scale, each variety that is destroyed is not
only a loss in itself, but it is also a loss
considered as an indication, how other cor-

* The use of such indications even to men of high
invention, and the assistance which they give to that in-
vention, may be learned from the practice and recom-
mendation of no less a man than Leonardo de Vinci, who
advises artists to attend to the stains in old walls; and
indeed the singular and capricious forms as well as tints
which they exhibit, would assist the most fruitful painter’s
imagmation. This is the principle on which that ingenious
artist, M. Cozens, practised and recommended the making
of compositions from blots.

14?
respondent beauties and varieties might
have been produced.

To give effect and variety of character to
foregrounds (in which light all the garden
near the house may be considered) the
forms, tints, and masses of stone or of
wood-work, must often be opposed to those
of vegetation, what is artificial, to what is
natural; and this, I believe, is the general
principle that should be attended to from
the palace to the cottage. A cottage, with
its garden pales, and perhaps some shrub,
or evergreen, a bay or a lilac, appearing
- through, and fruit-trees hanging over them ;
with its arbour of sweet-briar and honey-
suckle, supported by rude wood-work, ora
rustic porch covered with vine or ivy—is an
object which is pleasing to all mankind,
and not merely to the painter: he, indeed,
feels more strongly the value of their con-
nection, and disposition ; but deprive the cot-
tage of these circumstances, place it (asmany
a modern house is placed) on mere grass
and unaccompanied,—will the painter only
regret them? what such rustic embellish-
ments are to the cottage, terraces, urns,

145

vases, statues and fountains are to the pa-
lace or palace-like mansion. ‘These last
indeed are splendid and costly decorations,
and. may not without reason be thought to
require that the whole should be of the
same character; but there are some, which
appear to accord with every style and scale
of houses and gardens. Trellices, with the
different plants twining round them, and
even the small basket-work of parterres,
have a mixture of natural and of artificial,
and of the peculiar intricacy of each; of
firmness and playfulness ; of what is fixed,
with what is continually changing. I there-
fore. regret that fashion has so much ba-
nished them from gardens; but, if I may
be allowed to apply, though to a new sub-
ject, so very hackneyed a quotation, I will
venture to prophecy in Horace’s words, and
boldly say,

“ Multa renascentur que jam cecidere, cadentqu
“ Que@ nunc sunt in honore.”

I shall probably he accused by Mr.

144

Brown's admirers, of endeavouring to bring
about a counter-revolution, and to restore
the ancien regime, with all its despotism of —
strait lines and perpetual symmetry. It
is true that I have some attachment to the
old monarchy, though I should not like
to have it restored without strict limita-
tions: but my wish in this instance is
to combat the despotism of modern im-
provers, as resembling in a great degree that
of religious intolerance ; for they allow no
salvation out of their own pale. In this
case, as in most others, I should rather
choose to follow the example of ancient,
than of modern Rome. The. old’ Romans
not only tolerated every style of worship,
but mixed and incorporated them with
their own. The-gods of Greece and of
Homer, still kept their eminent stations;
but there was always some corner where
devotions might be paid to Apis or Anubis:
and such there might be in any place,
whatever its character, where a man who
had a taste for the Dutch style, might-en-

145

joy lis tulips, amidst box or yew hedges,
labyrinths, &e.

“ And in trim gardens take his pleasure.”

This may be considered as no slight in-
dulgence from a professed admirer of the
Italian gardens; for it is highly probable
that their destruction and the total banish-
ment of that style was owing to its having
been contaminated, by being mixed with the
Dutch style at its introduction. All sculp-
turaland architectural ornaments in gardens,
though objections might be made to themas
being too artificial, not only give impressions
of magnificence and expensive decoration,
but also recall ideas of the most. exquisite
works of art, even though the particular spe-
cimens should be rude copies, or imitations
of them : whereas the vegetable giants, obe-
lisks, &c. of a Dutch Garden when they
became principal, carried with them such
glaring marks of unimproveable rudeness
and absurdity, as made a change unusually

VOL, II. L

146

popular.* _'These absurdities, m their ruin,
carried away all the Italian ornaments that
were mixed with them. ‘The revolution,
therefore, which to gether with King Wiliam,

* * With regard to such toptary works, as they are called,
there is a very curious passage in a Latin poem of Pontanus
de hortis Hesperidum. After giying rules fos the prepasa-
tion and fencing of the ground, he says,

Infode dehinc teneram prolem, et sere tramite certo,
Et vinclis obstringe, obeunda ut munera discaut

A pueris, sed quisque suo spatioque, locoque.

Ende ubi, et assiduo cultuque operdque magistri
Porrigit et ramos, et frondes explicat arbos,

Ad munus lege quamque suum, et dispone figuras
Gratum opus, informemque gregem ad speciosa yoeato-
Hee altam in turrim, aut in propegnacula surgat ;
Hee arcum intendatque et spicula trudat ; at ilta
Muniat et vallo fossas, et mania cingat.

lila tuba armates ciat, et vocet agmen ad arma;
Altera tormente lapides jaculetur aheno,
Discutiat castella, et ruptis agmina muris

Emmittat, fractaque acies {immane) ruin&
lrrumpat, portis et congrediatur apertis,

Diruat et captam irrumpens exercitus urbem.

When we consider that the performers in this grand siege
are trees, which in their natural state aresealled a shapeless
crowd, we shall. be apt to exclaim znmane! with the au-
thor: a word, which though totally useless in his verse,
would be aptly used to express our surprize at such a por-
tentous garden..

147

brought over the taste of his country in
gardeuing, may be said to have sown the
seeds of anothér revolution hardly less
celebrated. But the revolution in taste dif-
fered very essentially from that in politics,
and the difference between them bears a
most exact relation to the character of their
immediate authors. ‘That in politics, was
the steady, considerate, and connected ar-
rangement of enlightened minds; equally
free from blind prejudice for antiquity, and
rage for novelty ; neither fond of destroy-
ing old, nor of creating new systems. ‘The
revolution in taste is stamped with the cha-
racter of all those, which either in religion
or politics have been carried into execution
by the lower, and less enlightened part of
mankind. Knox and Brown differ very
little in their manner of proceeding: no
remnant of old superstition, or old taste,
however rich and venerable, was suffered
to remain, and our churches and gar-
dens have been equally stripped of. their
ornaments.

I have now mentioned what appear to

L2

148

nie the chief excellencies of the old ftalian
gardens, but I am very far from under-
yaluing, or wishing upon that account, in all
instances to condemn modern improve-
ments... The former part of my essay, as I
before observed, relates almost entirely to
the grounds, and not to what may properly
be called the garden; and this: distinction
I wish the reader. to keep in his mind, lest
be should be led to imagine that I praise
at one time, what I censured at another.
In my, idea, Mr. Brown has been most
successful in. what may .properly be called
the garden, though not in that part of it
which is nearest the house. .The old im-
proyers went abruptly from the, formal
garden to the grounds, or park; but,the
modern pleasure garden with its shrubs and
exotics, would form a yery just and easy
gradation from architectural ornaments, to
the natural woods, thickets, and pastures.
All highly ornamented walks, such as ter-
races, &c. of coutse can only have place
near the house: in the more distant parts
of the garden, the, gravel. walk is in like

149

manner, a proper gradation from them to,
the simple pathway. ‘The garden scene at.
Blenheim is one of the best specimens of
the present style, and I have already en-
deavoured to point out what are its few de-
fects, and whence its many beauties arise.*
Had Vanbrugh formed anarchitectural gar~
den for a certain space immediately before
the house, it would not have interfered
with this more extended garden, or pleasure
ground ; on the contrary, it would probably
have enhanced the pleasure of it, and with
a slight alteration or disguise, the one style
might have been blended with the other,
and magnificence of decoration happily
united, with the magnificence and beauty
of natural scenery. In the garden scene at
Blenheim the gravel walk appears in great
perfection: the sweeps are large, easy, and
well taken; and though in wild and: ro-
mantic parts such artificial bends destroy
the character of the scenery, yet in gardens,
where there must be regular borders to the
walks, an attention to the different curves

* Essay on the Picturesque, part 2, chap.'3.'"

150

is indispensable ; and the skill that is shewn
in conducting them, though not to be rated
too high, is by no means without its merit.
That was Mr. Brown's fort, and there he
was a real improver; for before him, the
horror of strait lines made the first im-
provers on the new system, conceive that
they could hardly make too many turns.*
His misfortune, (and stili more that of his
employers,) was, that, knowing his fort, he
resorted to it upon all occasions, and car-
ried the gravel walk, its sweeps, and its
lines, to rivers, to plantations, and univer-
sally to all improvements; not contented
with making gardens, many parts of which
he well understood, he chose to make land-
scapes, of which he was worse than igno-
rant ; for of them he had the falsest concep-
tions. Against his landscapes, not against
his gardens, has-almost the whole of my
attack being pointed; in theone, every thing

* I am told, that he began the reformation of those zig-
zag, cork-screw walks; and that he used to say of them,
with very just ridicule, that you might put one foot upon
zig, and the other upon zag,

151

he did is to be avoided ; in the other, many
things ure worthy of attention and imita-
tion. In regard to the walks at Blenheim,
another circumstance, though minute, adds
to their perfection: they are so artfully laid,
that the surface becomes a sort of mosaic ;
and notwithstanding their inherent defects,
they add a higher polish to that beautiful
garden scene. Whenever any thing can be
devised, that has the neatness and dressed
appearance of the gravel walk, without its
distinct lines and meagre edge, I shall be
very glad of the exchange; in the mean
time, I must own, J know of no other me-
thod of having a dry walk for any length
through a pleasure ground, in character with
that ground. _.

With respect to fountains and statues,
as they are among the most refined of all
garden ornaments, so they are most liable
to be introduced with impropriety. ‘Their
effect, however, (especially that of water in
motion mixed with sculpture,) is of the
most brilliant kind; yet though fountains
make the principal ornaments of the old

152

Italian gardens, they are almost entirely
banished from our’s: statues in some de-
eree still remain. Fountains have been
objected to as unnatural, as forcing water
into an unnatural direction: J must own, I
do not feel the weight of that objection ;
for natural jets d’eaua, though rare, do ex-
ist, and are among the most surprising ex-
hibitions of nature. Such exhibitions, when
imitable, are surely proper objects of imi-
tation; and as art cannot pretend to vie
with nature in greatness of style and exe-
cution, she must try to compensate her
weakness by symmetry, variety, and rich-
ness of design; and fountains, such as are
still to be seen in Rome and its environs,
may be classed with the most striking spe-
cimens of art, in point of richness and bril-
liancy of effect. But on the subject of
fountains, I am inclined to risk what may
be reckoned a bold position—that near a
house on a large scale, this mode of intro-—
ducing water in violent motion, so far from
being improper, is, of all others, the mode
in which it may be done with the most ex-~

153

act propriety. A palace can scarcely ever
be built close to a grand natural cascade ;
and the imitation of such great falls, unless
the general scenery correspond with them,
is the height of absurdity. Now, the imi-
tation of water forced upwards in a column
by a subterraneous cause, though oneof the
most marvellous and mysterious effects in
nature, may, in some respects, on that very
account, be imitated with less improba-
bility than a cascade ; for it might take
place in any spot whatever, and does not
necessarily require accompaniments of a
- particular character, which a cascade does,
if meant to appear natural. But, laying
aside these considerations, and supposing
that there were no example in natural
scenery of water forced upwards into the
air, but that human ingenuity having dis-
covered a power in nature capable of pro-
ducing the most brilliant eftects, had applied
it to the purposes of human luxury and
magnificence—I do not see why man should
not be allowed to dispose of one element,
as of another; of a fluid, as of a solid.

154
No one blames the architect: for. cutting
stone into forms, of which there are no
prototypes in nature: he does not imitate
the rude irregular shapes of the rock or
quarry whence he takes his materials: he
considers that highly-finished symmetrical
buildings decorated with artificial orna-
ments, are congenial to polished artificial
man; just as huts, dens, and caverns are
to the wild savage, whether man or beast.
In the same manner an architect-statuary,
a Bernini, never could have thought of in-
quiring what were the precise forms of na-
tural spouts of water; he knew that water
forced into the air, must necessarily as-
sume a great variety of beautiful forms,
which, added to its own native clearness
and brilliancy, would admirably accord
with the forms and the colour of his statues,
with the decorations of architecture, and
with every object round it; he knew that
he should preserve, and in some points in-
crease all its characteristic beauties ; its
transparency, its lively metion, its delicious
freshness, its enchanting sound; and add

155

to’ it such magical effects of light and co-
lours,* as can hardly be conceived by those
who have not seen a jet d’eaw on a large
scale. I am indeed persuaded, that had
there been specimens of natural water-
spouts near Rome, such as those in Iceland,
he would not in ornamented scenes, have
imitated those rude circumstances, what-
ever they may be, which give them thé ap-
pearance of being natural, My reason for
thinking so is, that there are often cascades,
as well as fountains, in the old Italian gar-
dens; and they are manifestly artificial,
without any attempt to imitate that style
of rudeness and irregularity, which charac-
terizes those which are natural. ‘The stones,
indeed, of which they are composed, are
rough; but they bear something of the same
relation to the rough stones of a natural
cascade and to their disposition, which the
rustic used by architects, bears to’ the
roughness and irregularity of a natural
* Et digs Pair s’enflammant aux feux @un soleil pur,
~ Pleuvoir en gouttes d’or, d’emeraude, et d’azuur.

if ’ ‘Les Jardins, chant, 1.

156

rock. It will hardly be said that it was for
want of proper models in nature, or the
power of imitating them, that such cascades
were made, when we recollect the nearness |
of Tivoli to Rome; and that the age of
Bernini, was that of Gaspar, Claude, and
Poussin. From all these considerations it
appears to me, that in the old gardens art
was meant to be apparent, and to challenge
admiration on its own account, not under
the disguise of nature ; that richness, effect,
and agreement with the surrounding arti-
ficial objects, were what the planners and
decorators of those gardens aimed at. In
that light, fountains with sculpture, are the
most preper, as well as the most splendid
ornaments of such scenery.

But although the full effects og fountains
can only be displayed on a large scale, yet
I believe that in all highly dressed parts,
whatever be the scale, water: may be intro-
duced with more propriety in the style of
an upright fountain, than, perhaps, in any
other way. It would, for instance, be ex-
tremely difficult in a flower-garden, to give

157

to a stream of water the appearance of a
natural rill, and yet to make it accord with
the artificial arrangement, and highly em-
bellished appearance of such a spot. Now
the upright fountain seems precisely suited
to it, as it is capable of any degree of sculp-
tural decoration which the decorations of
the place itself may require; and likewise,
as the forms in which water falls in its re.
turn towards the ground, not only aze of
the most, beautiful kind, but have some-
thing of regularity and symmetry: two
qualities which, more or. less, are found in
all artificial scenes.

‘The oe. of introducing any highly
artificial decorations, where there is nothing
in the character of the mansion which may
seem to warrant them, may perhaps be
questioned ; for my own part, I would ra-
ther wish that some improprieties should
be risked for the sake of effect (where the
mischief, if such, could be repaired) than
that improvements should be confined to
the present timid monotony. What has
stack me in some cases, and in-some points

158

of view, as a fault in the general effect of
marble statues in gardens is their white-
ness; but it is chiefly where there are no
buildings, nor architectural ornaments near
them; for, like other white objects, they
make spots when placed amidst verdure
only, whereas the colour and the substance
of stone or stucco, by assimilating with
that of marble, takes off from a certain
crudeness which such statues are apt to
give the idea of, when placed alone among
trees and shrubs. This, however, must
tather bé considered as a caution, than an
objection.

In forming a general. euberiassinns of the
two styles of gardening, it seems to me that
what constitues the chief excellence of the
old garden, is richness of decoration and of
effect, and an agreement with the same
qualities im architecture ; its defects, stiff-
ness, and formality.” The excellencies ‘of
the modern garden, are verdure, undulation
of ground, diversity of plants, and’a moré
varied and natural disposition of them than
had hitherto been practised: its defeéts,

159

when’ considered as accompanying archi-
tecture,—a uniformity of character too near-
ly approaching to common nature. When
considered as improved natural scenery—
a want of that playful variety of outline,
by which beautiful scenes in nature are
eminently distinguished.

~ ‘The whole of this, in my idea, pomts out
one great source of Mr. Brown’s defects.
Symmetry is universally liked on its own
account: formality, as such, universally
disliked ; but we often excuse formality for
the sake of symmetry: now, Mr. Brown
has upon system, and in almost all cases,
very studiously destroyed symmetry, while
he has in many instances preserved, and
even increased formality. He has also
entirely banished strait lines; not know-
ing, or not reflecting, that the monotony
of strait lines is frequently productive
of grandeur; whereas there is a meanness
as well as sameness, in the continuation of
regular curves. The terrace walk, there-
fore, which improvers of his school would
probably object to on account of its strait-

160

ness, had from that very circumstance, a
dignity and propriety in its situation, very
different from the winding gravel walk; to
which it bears the same sort of relation as
the avenue to the belt.*

It will very naturally be said, that these.
rich and stately architectural and sculptu-
ral decorations, are only proper where the
house itself has something of the. same
splendid appearance. ‘This, is true in a
great. measure; but though it is only in ac-
companying grand and magnificent build-
ings, that the Italian garden has its full ef-
fect, yet, as there are numberless gradati-
ons in the style and character of buildings,
from the palace or the ancient castle, to.
the plainest and simplest dwelling-house,
so, different styles of. architectural, or at
least of artificial accompaniments, might,
though more sparingly, be made use of in
those lower degrees, without having our
gardens reduced to mere grass and shrubs.
These near decorations in every different

* Essay on the Picturesque, part.2,’chap. 1.

161

style and degree, and their application,
ought certainly to be studied by orna-
mental gardeners, as well as the more dis-
tant pleasure ground, and still more distant
landscapes of the place. All I presume to
do, is to indicate what seem to me the ge-
neral principles: the invention of new, and
the application of old ornaments, require
the talents of an artist: but should the
study of the principles of painting become
an essential part of the education of an or-
namental gardener, I should not despair of
seeing them successfully applied to the
particular objects which have been treated
of in this Essay, as well as to those which
appear more strictly to belong to the land-
scape painter.

I am, indeed, well convinced that there
is one way by which ornamental garden-
ing, in this confined, as well as in the more
enlarged sense of it, would make a real
and progressive improvement. It is, that,
landscape painters (and by no means those
of the lowest class, or ability) should give

VOL, II. M

169

their attention to the peculiar character of
such. gardens: that they should observe,
without prejudice on, either side, what mo-
dern improvers have dove; their merits,
their defects, and the causes of them: that
they should make the same observations om
all that has been done in every age and
country,..and compare them with each
other; m all this, putting fashion out of the
question, and judging only by the great
leading principles, rot the particular:prac-
tice of their own art. “That: they should
mark the alterations which time and acci-
-dent had produced, and consider how fay
such ‘effects might be imitated in ‘new
works ; and lastly, how alb these more orna~
mented parts might be connected «both
-with the house and the’ general scenery.
By such studies, many new lights would
_be thrown on the whole subject, many new
inventions and combinations worthy of be-
ing recorded, would arise ; but the bane of
_all invention, is exclusive attachment to
one. manner, and that above all others is

163
the character of Mr. Brown’s school of im-
provement. ‘here is, indeed, a very false
idea with respect to originality which may
have influenced Mr. Brown,—that of reject-
ing all study and imitation of what others
have done, for fear of being suspected of
want of invention, Sir Joshua Reynolds
has admirably pointed out, the fallacy of
this notion, and the truth of a seeming pa~
radox, namely that imitation (of course not
of a servile kind) is often a source of ofigi-
nality; and he has very happily remarked,
that by ceasing to study the works of others,
an artist is reduced to the poorest of all imi«
tations—that of his own works. This seems:
precisely the case with Mr. Brown, and
might possibly be owing to his ill-directed.
aum at origimality,

Were my arguments in ireslat of. many:
parts of the old style of gardening ever so
convincing, the most I could hope from
them at present would be to produce some
caution; and to assist in preserving’some of
the few remains of old magnificence that
still exist, by making the owner less ready

ae 4

164

to listen to a professor, whose interest it is
to recommend total demolition.*

The owners of places where the old gar-
dens have been preserved, may naturally
feel, about raised terraces, &c. nearly as
they would about avenues; many who
would hardly plant, might still be unwilling
to destroy them. What exists, and is mel-
lowed and consecrated by time, and varied
by accident, is very different from the
crudeness of nev’ work ; it requires only a
passive, or at most an obstinate indolence,
to leave an old garden standing; it would
require a very activeodéteniination in a
man ever so well convinced of its merit, to
form a new garden, or any part of it, after
an exploded model. ‘The change from up-
right terraces to undulating ground, is an
obvious improvement ; it seems only to
restoreonature to its proper original state

.* Besides the profit arising from total change, a disciple
of Mr. Brown has another motive for recommending it—
he hardly knows where to begin, or what to set about, till
every thing is cleared ; for those objects which’ to painters
are: indigations, to him-are obstructions.

165

before it was disturbed; but it appears a
great refinement, which therefore will be
admitted with difficulty to say—that what
is unnatural and artificial (particularly with
regard to ground) should be done, or left, if
done already, in order to produce certain
painter-like effects, that these raised ter-
races, &c. accord with the manifest art of
all that belongs to building and architec-~
ture, that by contrast they give a greater
relish for the natural undulations of the
grounds in other parts, that they admit of
more striking and varied ornaments than
mere earth and grass, and form a just gra-
dation from highly embellished, to simple
nature; just as the polished lawn or grove
does afterwards, to the wilder wood-walks
and pastures,*

* Mr. Brown has been celebrated for the bold idea of
taking down Richmond terrace. The word bold, must
always be misplaced in speaking of his works, and here as
usual. Had he loosened the ground of a high, but regu
larly sloped bank of a river, and turned for some time the
current against it, in order to take advantage of the breaks
and varieties which that current might occasion,—it would
have been bold; for then, in opposition to common-place

al

166

All this to the advocates of extreme sims
plicity may seem refinement; and yet it
must be considered, that in the higher
styles of all the arts—in painting, in poetry,
in all dramatic representations, the most
striking effects ave produced by heighten-
ing, and so far by deviating from commoy
obvious nature; and by adding what is ar-
tificial, to what is strictly simple and natu-
ral. The good or bad effects of such
heightenings, deviations, and additions, de-
pend upon the taste, judgment, and genius

ideas, he would have searched after bold picturesque effects;
but smoothness, verdure, and a hanging level, were sure to
be popular. Ido not mean to diseuss the merit of this
alteration, though somewhat inclined to doubt of it; but
merely to question Mr. Brown’s title to bolduess of con-
ception. His successor, who proposed blowing up the
terrace at Powis Castle,* had certainly more merit in point
ef bolduess: I think, however, that upon such oceasions
some qualifying epithet should be applied, such as splendida
mendaz ; and when we consider the flat operation that was
to have ensued after the burst of gunpowder, we might say
that the successor was more boldly tame, than his mere
Ulustrious predecessor.

* Letter to Mx. Repton, page W.

167

with which they are made: what is merely
fantastic and extravagant, and done upon
no just principle, will very justly be ne-
glected after the fashion is past; but gar-
dening must not pretend to differ from all
the other fine arts, and reject all artificial
ornaments, and pride herself upon simpli-
city alone, which(as Sir Joshua Reynolds
well observes in speaking of painting) when
it seems to avoid the difficulties of the art,
is a very suspicious virtue. Ido not mean
by this the mere execution, though it is
without comparison more difficult in the
Italian style: the difficulties in gardening,
as in other arts, do not lie in forming the
separate parts, in making upright terraces
and fountains, or serpentine walks, planta-
tions, and rivers, but in producing a variety
of compositions and effects by means of
those parts, and in combining them, what-
ever they may be, or however mixed, into
one striking, and well counected whole,

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Tas ’
ra petals; ove Aba geet goa « ‘ eat

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a ‘Ne nol hus aiurgaaatath tiga ot

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on Chemie ab ih jas ai Bhi i

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MO tod, “6h. Lo . rab ie wal vier
ta, dye” ioe Er

Ca ‘af oot yg " KOEPER
eet osinsbisy: ai eothiatteh coubhys ae ve :

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CRGSE £53 yriwboup sth: i dad aati Bp
“Fogeansnt yee at ie sy bap: cso Hea
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ap alas. toon THis OU: 1 Ae oe

ESSAY

ON

ARCHITECTURE AND BUILDINGS,

AS CONNECTED WITH

SCENERY,

COIR 3

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ARWMIR, rs

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AN

ESSAY

ON

ARCHITECTURE AND BUILDINGS,
Sc, Se.

EEE

ORNAMENTAL Gardening is so con-
nected with Architecture and Buildings of
every kind, that 1 am led to make some
remarks on that subject also: at the same
time I must acknowledge with respect to
Architecture, that | have never made it my
study as a separate art, but only as con-
nected with scenery; and therefore shall
chiefly confine my remarks to what may
naturally have fallen within the sphere of
my own observation,

Architecture in towns, may be said to bé
principal and independent ; in the country,

172

it is in some degree subordinate and de-
pendant on the surrounding objects. This
distinction, though not sufficient to form a
separate class, ought not to be neglected ;
had it been attended to, so many square,
formal, unpicturesque houses of great ex-
pence, might not have encumbered the
scenes which they were meant toadorn. I
am not surprised, however, that the style of
country houses should have been too indis-
criminately taken from thoseof towns. All
the fine arts have been brought to their
greatest perfection, where large bodies of
men have been settled together ; for wealth,
emulation, and comparison are necessary
to their growth: and of all the arts, archi-
tecture has most strikingly embellished the
places where it has flourished. In cities,
therefore, the greatest number and variety
of finished pieces of architecture are to be
found ; and it is not to be wondered at if
those houses, which in cities were with rea-
son admired, should have been the objects
of general, and often of indiscriminate
imitation,

173\,

There are, however, very obvious reasons
for making a difference of character in the
two sorts of buildings. In a street, or a
square, hardly any thing but the front is
considered, for little else is seen; and even
where the building is insulated, it is gene-
rally more connected with other buildings,
than with what may be called landscape.
The spectator, also, being confined to a
few stations, and those not distant, has his
attention entirely fixed on the architecture,
and the architect; but in the midst of
landscape they are both subordinate, if
not to the landscape-painter, at least to
the principles of his art.

In a letter written on tragedy to Count
Alfieri, by an eminent critic, Sig. Calsabigi,
he insists very much on the necessity of
uniting the mind of the painter with that
of the poet, and that the tragic writer should
be poeta-pittore; it is no less necessary,
and more literally so, that'the architect of
buildings in the country should be archi-
tetto-pittore, for indeed he ought not only
to have the mind, but the hand of the

3 174
painter; not only to be acquainted with
the. principles, but. as far as design goes, ,
with the practice of landscape painting! -
All that. belongs. to the embellishment of
the scenes round country houses, has of
late years been more generally and studi-
ously attended to in this kingdom, than in
any other: architecture has also met with
great encouragement ; but however its pro-
fessors may have studied the principles of
landscape painting, they have had but lit-
tle encouragement to pursue those studies,
or opportunity of connecting them practi-
cally with those of their own profession.
When a house was to be built, Mr, Brown
of course decided with respect to its situa-
tion, the plantations that were to accom-
pany it, the trees that were to be left
or taken down, &c.; the architect there-
fore had only to consider how his own de-
sign would look upon paper, unconnected.
with any other objects; he was no further
concerned.

Now it seems to me, that if a person
merely wants a house of beautiful archi-

175

tecture, with finely proportioned and well
distributed rooms, and with convenient
offices, and looks no further, the assistance
of an architect, though always highly use-
ful, is hardly necessary. A number of
elevations and plans of such houses, of dif
ferent forms and sizes, have been published;
er he may look at those which have been
completed, observe their appearance and
distribution, and'suit humself: the estimate
a common builder can, make as. welk as a
Palladio,,.

Eam. very. far from ne va shat I
hare just said, to undervalue a_ profession
which I highly respect, or to suppose it
unnecessary; on the contrary, | am very
anxious to shew, that whoever wishes his
buildings to be real decorations to his
place, cannot do without:an architect; and
by an architect I do not mean a-mereé
builder, but one who has studied landscape
as well as architecture, who is no less fond
of it than of his own profession, and who
feels that each different situation, requires
a different disposition of the several parts.

176

In reality, this view of the profession points
out the use, and greatly exalts the cha-
racter, ofan architect : it is an easy matter
by means of some slight changes in what
has already been done, to avoid absolute
plagiarism, and to make out such a design
as may look well upon paper; but to unite
with correct design, such a disposition as
will accord, not only with the general
eharacter of the scenery, but with the par-
ticular spot and the objects immediately
around it, and which will present from a
number of points, a variety of well com-
bined parts—requires very different, and
very superior abilities. an

There are many. persons whe give up all
idea of beauty, except perhaps that of neat
stone, or brick work; and’ who in order
to have as little roof as possible, build up
something

So tall, so stiff, some London house you'd swear
Had chang’d St. erat s for a puter air.

Something that looks ; as if it, had once ain
squeezed between tio neighbours, and now

177

felt quite naked and solitary without them.
I do not mean to argue with the builders
of such houses ; they are satisfied, and their
more difficult neighbours and visitors are
alone to be pitied: there are others, how-
ever, who really think very much about
the beauty of their house, and not less
about that of their place, but who seem to
think of them separately, and to be satis-
fied if both meet with separate approbation.
But evenin point of vanity, any man I
think must feel a wide difference between
the reputation of having built a very ele-
gant house, which makes a conspicuous
figure in the Vitruvius Britannicus, and the
additional praise, so much more rare and
appropriate, that the architecture, how-
ever beautiful, is but a small part of its
merit; that it is not one of those houses
which would do nearly as well on one
spot as on another, but that it seemed
as if some great artist had designed both
the building and the landscape, they
so peculiarly suit, and embellish each
other.
VOL. II, N

178

Such union of character and effect can
never be expected to prevail, till the appli-
cation of the principles of painting to
whatever in- any way concerns the em-
bellishment of our places, becomes general ;
and perhaps no set of men are so likely to
bring about such a reform in the manner
of placing and accompanying houses, and
thence in every branch of improvement, as
the architetti-pittori. The education and
habit of study among architects, are so dif-
ferent from those of Mr. Brown and his
school, and so much more congenial to
painting, that I am persuaded a liberal ar-
chitect would comply with his own, still
more than with an improved public taste,
in sacrificing something of the little ex-
clusive vanity of his own particular pro-
fession, to the laudable ambition of uniting
what never should be separated ; and, far
from removing trees, which though they
might conceal parts of his works, gave
much more effect to the whole, would
wish, and would direct, such trees to be
planted.

179

It may be said with much truth, that the
reformation of public taste in real land-
scape, more immediately belongs to the
higher landscape painters, among whom
the higher painters of every kind may gene-
rally be included; but there are circum-
stances, which are likely to prevent them
from succeeding in a task for which they
are so well qualified. In the first place
they have few opportunities of giving their
opinion, being seldom employed in im-
proved places; certainly not in represent-
ing the improved parts: for there is a
strong repugnance, of which the owners
themselves are aware, in him who has stu-
died ‘Titian, Claude, and Poussin, and the
style of art and of nature that they had
studied, to copy the clumps, the naked
_ canals, and no less naked buildings of Mr.
Brown. Besides, if they are employed at
all, it is after all the alterations have been
made; whereas the architect frequently be-
gins his work before, or at the same time
with the improver. ‘Lhe painter also, might
be suspected of sacrificing too much to the

NW 2

180

particular purposes of his own art ; a Ssus-
picion which narrow-minded artists in every
line will often justify. But the architect,
“would apparently be making a sacrifice of
his own art to that of painting, though in
reality he would have the solid glory of
combining them both, and of following the
example of the greatest painters; some of
whom united the two professions, while
numbers of them displayed in their pic-
tures the beauty and the grandeur, arising
from a union of the two arts.

Much of the naked solitary appearance
of houses, is owing to the practice of totally
concealing, nay sometimes of burying, all
the offices under ground, and that by way
of giving consequence to the mansion: but
though exceptions may arise from par-
ticular situations and circumstances, yet,
in general, nothing contributes so much to
give both variety and consequence to the
principal building, as the accompaniment,
and, as it were, the attendance of the infe-
rior parts in their different gradations. It

c

181

is thus, that Virgil raises the idea of the
chief bard,

Muszum ante omnes, medium nam plurima turba
Hunc habet, atque humeris extantem suspicit altis.

Of this kind is the grandeur that charac
terizes many of the ancient castles ; which
proudly overlook the different outworks,
the lower towers, the gateways, and all the
appendages to the main building; and
this principle, so productive of grand and
picturesque effects, has been applied with
- great success by Vanbrugh to highly orna-
mented buildings, and to Grecian architec-
ture. ‘The same principle (with those va-
riations and exceptions that will naturally
suggest themselves to artists) may be ap-
plied toall houses. By studying the gene-
ral masses, the groups, theaccompaniments,
and the points they will be seen from, those
exterior offices, which so frequently are
buried, if not under ground, at least be-
hind a close plantation of Scotch firs, may
all become useful in the composition ; not
only the stables, which often indeed rival

182

the mansion, and. divide the attention, but
the meanest offices may be made to con-
tribute to the character of the whole, and
to raise, not degrade, the principal part:
the difference of expence between good
and bad forms, is comparatively trifling ;
the difference in their appearance immense.

Another cause of this naked appearance,
is the change in the style of gardening.
While the old style subsisted, the various
architectural ornaments, the terraces, sum-
mer-houses, and even the walls, as varied
by different heights and breaks, took off
from the insulated look of the house. On
that account, however stiff and formal the
gardens themselves, the whole composition
was much less so than at present, when
from that love of extreme simplicity, as
well as of smoothness and undulation, the
pasture ground frequently comes up to the
hall door; so that a palace seems placed in
a field, while the palace itself, in LP of
effect, is a mere elevation.*

* The appearance of one of these houses has often
brought to my mind that part of the story of Aladdin,

185

This bareness is still more out of character
in the foreground of an ancient castle, or
abbey; yetsucha foreground is immediately
made, when a building of that kind is unfor-
tunately within the circuit of a gentleman’s
improvements. Fountain’s Abbey I never
saw, but have heard too much of the al-
terations, which luckily were not quite
completed : there is, however, an ancient
castle which I have seen, since that boasted
improvement took place, of making it
stand in the lawn. The lawn has so en-
tirely subdued and degraded the building,
that had I not known it was really an an-
cient castle, I might have mistaken it for

where the Genius of the lamp takes up a magnificent pa-
lace from the place where it stood, carries it into another
region, and sets it down in the midst of a meadow. One
might suppose that this Genius had been very busy in
England; but though the Genius of the bare and bald is
not so powerful in his manner of operating, or so amusing
in his effects as that of the lamp, yet in this particular he
rivals him; for though he cannot take up a house from
the midst of its decorations, and place it in a meadow, he
bas often made all decorations vanish, and a meadow appear
in their place.

184

a modern ruin: nor at a distance would
the real size have undeceived me; for the
old foss having been filled up, and the
surface levelled and smoothed to the very
foot of the building, the whole had ac-~
quired a character of littleness, as well as
of bareness, from the flat naked ground
about it.

By filling up the fosses of a castle, its
character as a castle is greatly destroyed;
by removing the trees and brushwood,
and levelling and smoothing the rough ir-
regular ground, its effect to the painter,
and its character as a ruin, are no less in-
jured. What a system of improvement
must that be, which universally destroys -
- character, and creates monotony !*

* I lately observed the same effect produced by the
same cause on natural masses of stone, 12 a walk near
Matlock. The walk led towards the principal feature, a
rock which I had been greatly struck with from below, and
was eager to get a nearer-view of. On approaching it, [
hardly could believe it was the same, but did not immedi-
ately conceive the cause of my disappointment: I had

sllowed for the bad effect, in such a scene, of a gravel
walk with regular sweeps and borders; but besides that,

185

Painters not only represent trees accom-
panying ruins, but almost in contact with
splendid buildings in their perfect and en-
tire state: such an accompaniment adds
still greater variety and beauty to the most
beautiful and varied architecture, and by
partial concealment they can give an in-
terest almost to any building, however
formal and ugly. In the pictures of Claude,
the character of which is beauty and cheer-
fulness, detached architecture, as far as I
have observed, is seldom unaccompanied
with trees; continued buildings (as in
some of his sea-ports,) more frequently so:
for he seems to have considered them in
some measure as views in cities, and con-
sequently as belonging to architecture,
rather than landscape. Poussin, who at
one period of his life affected a severe and

the ground had been cleared, levelled, and turfed from the
edge of the walk to the foot of the rock, and round it, into
all its hollows and recesses. Though an immense mass of
stone, it hardly appeared natural; but seemed rather as if
it had somehow been brought and erected at an enormous
expence in a spot, which, as far as the improvements ex-
tended, so little suited its character,

186

dry simplicity 1 his figures, and a neglect
of what have been called the meretrivious
parts of the art, from the same ius of
mind, sometimes introduced both temples
and houses of regular and perfect architec-
ture, and totally detached and unaccom-
panied, into his landscapes; where, from
his judgment in placing them, they have a
grand, though a lonely, cheerless aspect,
and unsuited to ideas of habitation: but
more commonly Ais buildings also, are
richly blended with trees. ‘The examples
of naked buildings in pictures, bear indeed
no proportion to those which are more or
less accompanied by trees; the exact
reverse is true with respect to improved
places, and this difference has so material
an influence on the beauty and character
of every place, that the reasons of it are ©
well worth examining: but as the intro-—
duction of such accompaniments might be
thought to arise merely from the fancy of
painters, I will first observe, that a fond-
ness for trees near the house is not confined

187
to lovers of painting, but prevails among
nations of very opposite characters, and as
opposite climates.

The Turks, it is well known, are by their
religion forbidden to cultivate the art of
painting, and have been constantly at war
with all the fine arts; but their love of
trees near their houses is carried to a de-
gree of passion and reverence, of which
many singular instances have been related
by travellers. It may be said, that ina
warm and dry climate, such a passion is
not at all surprising: the same objection,
however, cannot be made to instances from
Holland, where the detached houses are
- frequently half surrounded by trees, where
the canals are regularly planted with them,
and their boughs (which at Amsterdam are
never trimmed up,) come close to the win-
dows. It is clear therefore that the indus-
trious Dutchman, who employs every foot
of the territory which with so much labour
and expence has been rescued from the
sea, is no less fond of them than the indo-

188

lent Turk, who inhabits a country where
property is not endeared, nor its value en-
hanced by security.

Notwithstanding this instance from a
foggy climate, I imagine the fear of damp-
ness would be one of the principal reasons
which the owner, or the improver would
allege, for not admitting large trees in the
foreground of a real habitation, though the
painter may place them near.an imaginary
building. But the number of trees which
an inhabitant of Holland, without fear of
inconvenience, plants close to his house, is
by no means necessary to picturesque
composition: a very few, even a. single
tree, may make such a break, such a
division in the general view, as may an>
swer that end; and most certainly will
not make any great addition to the
dampness.

A second objection which improvers will
naturally make, is, that trees must obstruct
the view from the windows. In regard to
their being obstructions, or considered as
such, that will partly depend upon the

189

judgment with which they are placed, and
partly upon the owner's turn of mind.
Whoever prefers, in all cases, a mere pro-
spect (and in that light every ‘unbroken
view may be looked upon) to a prospect of
which the accompaniments had been, or
seemed to have been, arranged by a great
painter, will think every thing an obstruc-
tion, that prevents him seeing all that it is
possible to see in all directions. But he
who is convinced that painters, from having
most studied them, are the best judges of
the combinations and effects: of visible
objects, will only look upon that as an
obstruction, which, if taken away, would
not merely let in more of the view, but
admit it in a happier manner in point of
composition: and whoever has felt the
extreme difference between seeing distant
objects, as in a panorama, without any
foreground, and viewing them under the
boughs, and divided by the stems of trees,
with some parts half discovered through
the branches and foliage, will be very loth
to cut down an old tree which produces

190

such effects, and no less desirous of cre-.
ating those effects by planting. Still, how-
ever, it may be objected, that though such
trees may greatly improve the composition
from some particular windows, they may
injure it from others: this is an objection
that I wish to state fairly and in its full
extent. It is certainly very difficult to
accompany the best objects in the most
favourable manner from one point, without
obstructing some of them from others ; and
it is extremely natural, that a person who
is used to admire a favourite wood, a dis-
tant hill, or a reach of a river from every
window, should not without difficulty pre-
vail on himself, to hide any part of them
from any one of those windows, though for
the sake of giving them tenfold effect from
other points. I will here suppose (what
is very rarely, if ever, the'case) each cir-.
cumstance in the more distant view to be
so perfect, that there was nothing which
the owner would wish to conceal; and
that the trees he, might plant, would be
solely for the purpose of heightening beau~

"a

191

ties, not of masking defects. Still without
some objects in the fore-ground, this view,
however charming, would be nearly the
same from each window; whereas by means
of trees, each window would present a
different picture, and the charm of variety,
though some of the variations should be
unfavourable, ought to be taken into the
account. It is more probable, however,
than even those windows whence the ob-
jects would be most concealed, might pre-
sent certain portions of the more distant
view across the branches and foliage in so
picturesque a manner, that a lover of paint-
ing would often be more captivated by
them, than by a studied composition.

I have endeavoured in all [ have stated,
to point out some of the advantages that
are gained, by breaking with trees a uni-
form view from a house, and to obviate
some of the objections to such a method ;
and I have done it more fully, because the
opposite system has strongly prevailed. I
do not mean, however, to assert that such
breaks are always necessary, or expedient:

192

though, in my own opinion, it can seldom
happen. that a view will not be improved,
from one, or more trees, rising boldly above
the horizon. Where fine old trees are left,
they plead their own excuse; but for
many years there is a poverty in the ap-
pearance of young single trees, that may
well discourage improvers from planting
them, though they may clearly foresee the
future effect of each plant, and wish for
old trees in those positions. That poverty
may be remedied, by making dug clumps
in most of the places fixed upon for single
trees, and by mixing shrubs with them.
This produces an immediate mass; the
temporary digging and the shelter, promote
the growth of the trees intended to produce
the effect; by degrees the shrubs may be
removed entirely, or some left to group
with them, as may best suit the situation ;
and as they get up, the boughs may be
opened and trained, so as to admit, or
exclude what is beyond them, just as tlie
planter thinks fit.

I now come to another objection, viz.

195

that they conceal too much of the archi-
tecture. And here L will allow,, however
desirous I may be,of varying the composi-
‘tion from the house, and of softening too
open a display of symmetry, that great re-
spect ought to be paid to such works as
are deservedly ranked among the produc-
tions of genius, in an art of high considera-
tion from the remotest antiquity. . When-
ever the improvement of the view would
injure the beauty or grandeur of such works,
or destroy that idea. ef connection ;and
symmetry, which, though veiled, should
still, be preserved, such an improvement
would .cost too dear. But in buildings,
where the forms and the heights are vari-
ed by means of pavillions, colonades, &c.
there generally are places where trees might
be planted with great advantage to the ef-
fect of the building, considered as part, of
a picture, without injury to it asa piece
of architecture; and in the placing. of
which accompaniments, the painter who
was conversant with architecture, and the

architect who had studied painting, would
VOL. II. o-

194.

probably coincide: aiid this, I think, may
more strongly point out the difference f
mentioned before, between the style which
stits a town only, and that which might
suit both town and country. <A square,
detached house im the country, while it re-
quires trees to make up for the want of va-
riety in its form, affords no indication where
they may be placed with effect; they will
indeed diminish the monotony, but will
not, as in the other case, so mix in with
the buildings, as to seem a part of the de-
sign of an architect-painter.

The accompaniments of beautiful pieces
of architecture, may in some respects, be
compared to the dress of beautiful women.
The addition of what is no less foreign
to them than trees are to architecture, va-
ries and adorns the charms even of those,
who, like Phryne, might throw off every
concealment, and challenge the critic eyes
of all Athens assembled. Men grow weary
of uniform perfection ; nor will any thing
‘compensate the absence of every obstacle
to curiosity, and every hope of novelty.

195

It is not probable, that Phryne was igndo-
rant or neglectful, of the charms of variety
and of partial concealment; and if the
most perfect forms may be rendered still
more attractive by what is foreign to them,
how much more those, which have little or
no pretensions to beauty! How many build-
ings have I seen, which, with their trees,
attract and please every eye! but deprive
one of them of those accompaniments,
what a solitary deserted object would. re-
main! I will not go on with the parallel,
but I believe the effect would in both cases
be very similar.’ .

It may very naturally occur to any
reader, and without the desire of cavilling,
that if painters sometimes did, and some-
times did not accompany their buildings
with trees; if both they and architects,
sometimes did, and sometimes did not vary
the lines, heights,and dispositions of their
buildings, the same liberty, according to
the aithor’s own principles, ought to b
allowed tothe improver.. Nothing can £
more just; and I should be very sorry

02 <

196

be suspected of having combated the des-
potism of others, in order to establish any
arbitrary opinions of my own: but a phy-
sician must proportion his remedy to the
degree, as well as to the nature of the dis-
ease; and bareness, monotony, and want
of connection, are in a high degree the
diseases of modern improvement. Had the
opposite system prevailed (and in the revo-
lutions to which fashion is subject, it may
still prevail) had all buildings of every kind
been encumbered by trees, or had they,
from a rage for the picturesque, been fan-
tastically designed, with an endless diver-
sity of different heights and breaks, with
odd projections and separations,—I should
equally have taken my arguments from the
works of eminent painters as well as of
architects, against such a departure from
all grandeur, elegance, and simplicity.
The best preservative against flatness
and monotony: on the one hand, and whim-
sical variety on the other, is an attentive
study of what constitutes the grand, the
beautiful, and the picturesque in buildings,

¢

o

197

as in all other objects. An artist who is

well acquainted with the qualities of which |
those characters are compounded, with their,
general effect, and with the tendency of
those qualities if carried to excess, will know

when to keep each character separate, when,

and m what degree, to mix them, according

to the effect he means to produce.

The causes and effects of the sublime and
of the beautiful have been investigated by
a great master, whose footsteps I have fol-
lowed in a road, which his penetrating and
comprehensive genius had so nobly opened :
I have ventured indeed to explore a new
track, and to discriminate the causes and —
the effects of the picturesque from those of
the two other characters : still, however, I
have in some degree proceeded under his
auspices; for it is a track I never should
have discovered, had not he first cleared and
adorned the principal avenues.

With respect to the sublime in buildings,
Mr. Burke, without entering into a minute
detail, has pointed. out its most. efficient
causes ; two of which are succession, and

198

uniformity. These he explains and exem-
plifies by the appearance of the ancient hea-
then temples, which, he observes, were ge-
nerally oblong forms, with a range of uni-
form pillars on every side ; and he adds, that
from the same causes, may also be derived
the grand effects of the aisles in many of
our own Cathedrals. But although succes-
sion and uniformity, when united to great-
ness of dimension, are among the most ef-
ficient causes of grandeur in buildings, yet
causes of a very opposite nature (though still
upon one general principle) often tend to
produce the same effects. These are, the
accumulation of unequal, and, at least ap-
parently, irregular forms, and the intricacy
of their disposition. ‘The forms and the
disposition of some of the old castles built
on eminences, fully illustrate what I have
just advanced ; the different outworks and.
massive gateways; towers rising behind tow-
ers: the main body perhaps rising higher
than them all, and on one side descending
in one immense solid wall quite down fo

199

the level helow,—all impress grand and aw-
ful ideas.

As I have in a former part made intri-
cacy a characteristic mark of the. pictur-
esque, | may possibly be accused of incon-
sistency in making it also a cause of gran-
deur. It might be sufficient to say, that
there are other qualities common to the su-
blime and to the picturesque, such as rou gh-
ness and abruptness ; and that therefore in-
tricacy might be in the same class. I shall
not, however, be satisfied with that general
defence, but shall endeavour to account in
a more satisfactory manner for this seem-
ing inconsistency. ‘There appear to be vari-
ous degrees and styles of intricacy. Ho-
garth, as I have mentioned on a former
occasion, in speaking of the effect of those
waving lines which steal from the eye, and
lead it a kind of wanton chace, has termed
it the beauty of intricacy, which I have en-
deavoured to distinguish from the more sud-
den and abrupt kind which belongs to the
picturesque ; I will now point out what

200

I conceive might be called with equal pro-
priety, the sublime of intricacy.

_ When suspense and uncertainty are pro-
duced by the abrupt intricacy of objects
divested of grandeur, they are merely amus-
ing to the mind, and their effect simply pic-
turesque.* But where the objects are such
as are capable of inspirmg awe or terror,
there suspense and uncertainty are power-
ful causes of the sublime; and intricacy may
by those means, create no less grand effects,
than uniformity and succession. An ave-
nue of large and lofty trees, forming a con--
tinued arch,and terminated by the gateway
of a massive tower, is a specimen, and no
mean one, of the grandeur arising from suc-
cession and uniformity. On the other hand,
many forest scenes are no less striking ex-
amples of the grandeur of intricacy. In the
avenue, all is simple and uniform in the .
highest degree, and the eye is totally fixed
to one point, to one focus. In the forest
scene, trees of different shapes and sizes,
cross each other in numberless directions ;

* Essay on the Picturesque, chap. 4.

«

201

while other. parts of the wood, are mys-
teriously seen between their trunks and
branches. Instead of one strait) walk or
road without any variation — unceriam
tracks appear, wild and irregular as_ the.
trees and thickets through which they pass:
instead of one solemn mass of foliage, that
hides the sky and its effects—gleams of
light, issuing perhaps from stormy and por-
tentous clouds, shoot athwart the glades,
and, by discovering ‘part of the recesses,
shew how deep the gloom is beyond. The
grandest of all landscapes, the San Pietro
Martire of Titian, is in part a scene of this
’ kind. The assassination is committed a-
midst lofty trees, at the entrance of a forest;
a supernatural light from a glory of angels,
is mixed in with the foliage and branches
of the trees, and conceals part of their sum-
mits; two horsemen in armour, the one
turning his head back towards the assassins,
the other pushing forward, are seen at some
distance just entering the depth of the forest,
and forcibly carry the eye and the imagi-
nation, towards its dark and’ intricate re-

202

cesses. But in this model of the sublime
in landscape, we see none of those sin-
gularly curved and twisted stems and
branches, as in the old trees of Bloemart,
of Ruysdal, and others of the Dutch and
Flemish schools ; nor their playful variety
of bushes, scattered thickets, and catching
lights; not even the more noble and ani-
mated wildness of Salvator’s stems and
branches ; but the whole character of the
picture, seems to be an exact medium be-
tween the savage grandeur of that sublime,
though eccentric genius, and the sedate so-
lemn dignity, which usually characterizes
the landscapes of Poussin.

The same kind of difference subsists be-
tween the intricacy of the pinnacles and
fret work of Gothic architecture, and that
more broad and massive kind of the towers
and gateways of ancient castles. Mr. Burke
observes, that the sublime in building re-
quires solidity, and even massiness; and
in my idea, no single cause acts so power-
fully, and can so little be dispensed with as
massiness : but as massiness is so nearly

203

allied to heaviness, it is (in this age espect-
ally) by no means a popular quality* ; for
in whatever regards the mind itself, or the
works that proceed from it, the reproach of
heaviness is of all others, the least patiently
endured: it isa reproach, however, that has
beem made to some of the most striking
buildingsboth ancient and modern. Among

* It might be thought somewhat stramed to suppose,
that the most fashionable style of writing in any age should
at all influence the character of other arts; yet something of
the same general taste is apt to prevail in them all during
the same period, and a distaste for whatever is opposed to it.
Voltaire was, without comparison, the most fashionable
writer of this century ; and in addition to the charms of the
lightest and most seducing style, he did not neglect any oc-
casion of insinuating its excellence. For fear his writings
should be thought too light and superficial, compared with
others of a more solid and argumentative kind, he turned
the keen edge of his wit agaiust any appearance of that
quality, which has been so ridiculed in Vanbrugh’s architec-
ture : he called the great Dr. Clarke (it must be owned
with some humour, however unjustly) ‘* une vraie machine
a raisonnement ;” and, indeed, he summed up the whole .
matter in one short maxim, whicl: equally characterizes his
mind and his style—‘ J/ n'y a q’un mauvais genre; c’ est le
genre ennuyeur.”

204

the various remainsof ancient temples, none,
perhaps, have so grand an effect as the old
Doric temples in Sicily, and at Pestum ;
though from their general look of massi-
ness, and from the columns being without
bases, none are more opposite to what are
usually considered as light buildings : but
may it.not be doubted, whether the giving
of bases to those columns, and consequently
a greater degree of lightness and airiness to
the whole, might not proportionably dimi-
nish that solid, massive grandeur, which is so
striking to every eye? If, again, we consider
modern buildings, no mansion of regular,
finished, ornamental architecture that I have
yet seen, has from such a number of differ-
ent points, so grand an appearance as Blen-
heim ; and never was the reproach of heavi-
ness so unceasingly applied to any build-
ing.* How far the heaviness of the ancient

* It would hardly be supposed that the heaviness of
Blenheim would ever have been mentioned as acompliment
to the noble owner ; yet | remember hearing an instance of
it. The conversation happened to turn upon the immense
weight that an egg would support, if pressed exactly im a

205

temples or of the modern palace might be
diminished, without diminution of their
grandeur, may be a question ;‘but I believe
it is very clear, that after a certain point, as
they gained more in lightness, they would

become less majestic, and, beyond that
| again, less beautiful.

Thesame principle seems to have cited
the highest painters in respect to the human
figure. The Prophets and Sybils of M. An-
gelo, Raphael, and Fra. Bartolomeo are all
of a character and proportion, which ‘in
buildings would be called massive : 'Tibaldi,
and after him the Caracci and their disci-
ples, formed their style upon those famous
models ; and they had a peculiar ‘word
(sagoma) to express that fulness and mas-
siveness of form, as opposed to the meagre-
ness of Mantegna, Pietro Perugino, and al-
most all the earlier painters. Particular ex-

perpendicular direction:—no weight, they said, would break
it. A person who was sitting at some distance from the Duke
of Marlborough, called out to him, “ My Lord Duke! if
* they were to pat Blenheim upon it, egod I believe i it would
“¢ crush the egg.” es

206 :
ceptions may indeed be produced, as for
instance the Moses of Parmeggiano, so
highly, and so justly admired by the poet
Gray ; that, like all his figures, 1s of a more
lengthened proportion, and the body thin-
ner than those of the other masters whom I
have mentioned; but the limbs have the
same fulness of form ina very high degree.
It must be remembered, also, that expres-
sion of countenance, energy of action, and
many other circumstances will give to the
human figure, what cannot be given to
building.

But the effects of art are never so well
illustrated, as by similar effects in nature:
and, therefore, the best illustration of build-
ings, is by what has most analogy to them
—the forms and characters of rocks ; in
which it can hardly be doubted, that mas-
siveness is a most efficient cause of gran-
deur.

Where the summit of such massive rocks
runs in a parallel line, and the breaks and
projections lower down are slightly marked,
both the first impression is less strong, and

-

207

the eye soon becomes weary , for though
a natural wall of such solidity and magni+
tude must always be: a grand we co it is
still a wall.

But where certain bold projections are
detached from the principal body of rock ;
where in some places, they rise higher than
the general summit, and in others, seem a
powerful buttress to the lower part,—the
eye is forcibly struck with the grandeur of
such detached masses, and occupied with the
variety of their form, and of their light and
shadow. Such is the effect and the cha-
racter of many of the ancient castles.

On the other hand, it no less frequently
happens, that the lower parts of rocks. are
varied in shape, and boldly relieved, while
their summit describes one uniform line ;
the projections then lose their consequence
when seen from afar, especially in a front
view, and the eye is more distinctly occu-
pied with the line of the summit. This is
the case with many of those buildings, which
are executed in what is called Grecian, or
Italian architecture : when viewed at a dis-

208

tance, the porticos and columns are less ob-
served, than the general squareness, and the
strait lines of the. roof.

But when in the approach to rocks with
an unvaried summit; you come so near them,
that the summit is. partially concealed and
broken by the projecting parts below,—then
the whole becomes varied, yet the masses
are preserved. Such is the effect of Grecian
architecture, where the spectator is on a
level with the base of the building, and con-
fined with respect to distance ; and then
the columns and porticos have their full
effect one of the most noble and beautiful
that architecture can display.

Again, where rocks are composed of
crumbling, friable stone, they are frequently
broken into detached pointed forms, with
holes, openings, and intricacies of every
kind, which may be compared to simular
forms, openings, and intricacies in Gothic
buildings ; many of which indeed they pro-
bably may have suggested: such rocks ainuse
the eye by their variety and singularity, but’

209

are muchiless grand and imposing than those
ofa more firm and unbroken kind.

Rocks of slate and shivering stone, which
instead of being disposed in large masses;
are parted into thin layers, however lofty
they may be, however their summits may be
broken and varied, have comparatively a
“poor effect, from the want of solidity and
massiveness. Such rocks, are like castles
and towers builtof rubbish and smallstones,
kept together by the cement only; and like
them at a distance, and under the influence
of twilight, or of a misty atmosphere, assume
a grandeur, which from the same cause they
lose on a nearer approach.

Lastly, there are high uniform banks of
red earth, without any hollows or projec-
tions ; to which unhappily the greater part
of the houses in this kingdom bear but too
close a resemblance.

from the analogy between the general
effects of rocks and of buildings, I am led
iobelieve, that though many small divisions
diminish grandewt, yet that certain marked

VOL. It. ais!

210

divisions, by affording the eye a scale of
comparison, give a greater consequence to
the whole. The same quantity, therefore,
of stone, brick, or any other material, if
divided into certain large portions, (as, for
. Instance, into round or square towers) will
not only be more varied, but appear of
greater magnitude, than the same quan~
tity of materials in one square mass ; such
as is often seen in houses of what is called
the Italian style.* I may add, that of the

* The effect of this principle struck me very much at
Wollaton*, a house, which for the richness of its ornaments
in the near view, and the grandeur of its masses from every
point, yields to few, if any, inthe kingdom. But it is still
more striking when contrasted with the neighbouring cas-
tle (as it is called) of Nottingham. That is a long, square
house of the Italian style, built in a high commanding si-
tuation overlooking the town. The long unvaried line of
the summit, and the dull uniformity of the whole mass,
would not have embellished any style of landscape ; but
such a building, on such high ground, and _ its outline al-
ways distinctly opposed to the sky, gives an impression of
-ridicule and disgust. The hill and the town are absolutely
flattened by it; while the comparatively low situation of
Wollaton, is so elevated by the form of the house, that it
seems to command the whole country round it.

* Lord Middleton’s, within two miles of Nottinghain.

211

more distant views of houses in the coun-
try those are the most generally pleasing;
where trees and masses of wood inter=
vene, and where consequently the base is
not seen : now, in such views, the porticos
and the breaks below the summit, are often
in a great degree concealed, and the line
of the roof, being the part opposed to the
sky, becomes principal ; in which cases the
advantage of towers, and of whatever va-
ries that line, is obvious.

Sir Joshua Reynolds is, I believe, the first
who has done justice to the architecture of
Vanbrugh, by shewing that it was not a
mere fantastic 'style, without any other ob-
ject than that of singularity, but that he
worked on the principles of painting, and
has produced the most painter-like effects. *
It is very possible that the ridicule thrown.
on Vanbrugh’s buildings by some of the
wittiest men of the age he lived in, though
not the best judges of art, may in no slight
degree have prevented his excellencics from

* Sir J oshua Reynolds’s Thirteenth Discourse.
P2

312

being properly attended to; for what has
been the subject of keen and amusing re-
dicule, will seldom become the object of
study, or imitation. Itappears to me that
at Blenheim, Vanbrugh conceived and ex-
ecuted a very bold and difficult design; ,
that of uniting in one building, the beauty
and magnificence of Grecian architecture,
the picturesqueness of the Gothic, and the
massive grandeur of.a castle ; and that in
spite of the many faults with which ‘he jis
very justly reproached, he has formed, in a
style truly his own, a well-combined whole,
a mansion worthy of a great prince and
warrior, His first pomt seems to have been
massiveness, as the foundation of grandeur,
Then, to prevent that mass-from being a
lump, he has made various bold projections
of various heights, which from different
points serve as foregrounds ‘to the ‘main
building. And,lastly, having probably been
struck with the variety of outline agamst the
sky inmany Gothicand otherancient build-
ings, he has raised on the top of that part,
where the slanting roof begins in many

215.

houses of the Italian style, a number of de-
gorations of various characters. These, if
not new in themselves, have at least been
applied and combined by him in a new and
peculiar manner; and the union of them
gives a surprising splendour and magnifi-
cence, as well as variety, to the summit of
that princely edifice. There is a point on
the opposite side of the lake, whence it is
séen in full story, and with its happiest ac-
companiments. The house, the lake, and
the rich bank ‘of the garden, may be so
grouped with some of the trees that stand
Hear the jwater and hane over it, and so
framed amidst their stems and branches, as
to exclude all but the choicest. objects; and
whoever catches that view towards the close
of the evening, when the sun strikes on the
golden balls and pours his) beams through
the open parts, gilding every ‘rich and bril-
liant ornament, will think hé sees some en-
chanted palace. But let those decorations
be changed for the summit of any of the
most celebrated houses built since the time
of Vanbrugh, such as Fonthill, or Keddle-

214

stone, in which (if I may trust to my recol«
lection, and to the designs), the edge of a
slanting roof, with scarcely any other break,
but that of detached chimnies; forms’ the
outline against the sky—however the sun
might illuminate such a summit, the spec-
tator. would no longer think of Alcina.or,
Armida. |

I haye already disclaimed all light
of architecture as a science, and have. pros,
fessed my intention of treating of it chiefly.
as connected with scenery: after what. [
have said of Vanbrugh, it is highly necessary
to renew that declaration. Few persons, I
believe, have in any art been guilty of more
faults, though few, likewise, have produced
more striking effects. Asan author,and an
architect, he boldly set rules at defiance,
and in both those characters, completely:
disregarded all purity of style; yet, not-
withstanding those defects, Blenheim and
Castle Howard, the Provoked Wife and the
Relapse will probably be admired, as long
as the se aps nation or lan guage: shall con-
tinue to’ exist. va Fe i Di

215

An architect who is thus notorious for his
violation of rules, his neglect of purity.and
elegance, and his licentious mixture of styles
and, ornaments, certainly ought not to be
held-up as.a model for imitation: but, on
the other hand, an artist who, in any art,
produces new and striking effects, well de-
serves to have their causes investigated ; for
he who has produced such effects (it hardly
matters by what means) has attained a great
end. ‘lhe study, therefore, not the imita-
tion of Vanbrugh’s architecture, might be
extremely serviceable to an artist of genius
and discernment. It is true that Sir Joshua
Reynolds, when speaking in praise of Van-
brugh, has disclaimed any authority on the
subject of architecture as a science; but his
authority as a painter for the general, pic-
turesque effect of buildings, is indisputable;
and what such a man admired, ought not
rashly to be despised or neglected. He ex-
plained upon the principles of his own art,
~ what were those of the architect of Blen-
heim; and they deserve to be still farther
discussed. I should think it would be an

wsastc
RO So
we “

$16

éxcellent study for an architect, to make
drawings of Blenhérm,* endéavotirmg to
preserve the principle of light and shadow,
the character of the architectural fore-
ground, the effeet of the raised decorations
on the roof, and the gefieral grandeur and
variety of the whole; but trying at the same
time to give more lightness and purity of
style to that whole, more elegance and con-

praity to the parts; observing as he pro-
ceeded, how far he fownd it necessary to sa+

crifice purity, lightness, elegance, and unity
of style, in ordef to preserve those effects
which Vanbrugh has produced. Let him
too, if he likewise undérstatid landscape,

substitute any fine house of the same style

of architecture with those I lately mention-
ed, iti the room of Blenheim. Let him do
it where the view first opens, at the entrance
from Woodstock ; and also in other views,
where the portico, and the best parts of such

* If 1 mention’ Blenheim singly, it is, that.1 have had
constant opportunities of examining it, which [, unluckily,
‘have not enjoyed, with respect to the no less magnificent
fabric of Castle Howard. | bapairogss

217

a building would be seen to most advan-
tage. Let him again make the same change,
and consider it, from other points whence
the projecting parts would be hidden, and
only the summit seen; and I believe he
would be convinced, that if Blenheim has
not the purer graces of the art, it has some-
thing, which, if there be no possibility of
allying it with those graces, should by no
means be.sacrificed to them.

_ When, L..consider the cause whence ses
striking effect of Blenheim, in all the more
distant. views, proceeds, I cannot but re-
flect with surprise, on the little attention that
has been paid to the summits of houses in
the, country; even of those, of which every
other part is expensively decorated. ~ Asin
many of them the difference of expence was
no object, I can only account for it from
what I mentioned before—that the archi-
tecture of houses in towns, has been too
indiscriminately followed in the designs of
anansions in the country. The reason which
I then suggested, why the forms of the
summits are less material in town houses

218

than in those which are placed in the midst
of landscapes, was, thatinstreetsand squares
they are seen from more confined spaces,
from fewer points, and froma more uniform
level. . There aresituations; however}where
the summits’ of mere housés in towns, may
be very material in the'general view: as
‘when'a town happens to be placed on the
sidé of a hill, where the ascent is steep, and
the ground irregular?’ for, as' in such Gases
the houses'rise above each’ other with ‘sud-
den changés in’ their: level and ‘direction,
their tops are more distinotly~ seen," and
from a’ greater variety of different points.
In situations of that kind, were an architect
with a painter’s eye, to have the platining
of the whole, he would have ain opportunity
of producing the richest effects, by combin-
ing his art with that of painting; by varying
the characters of the buildings,’ and parti-
cularly of their summits, hana. hi the
place which they were to occupy. "°°?

Amidst all the interesting circumstances
at ‘Tivoli, nothing is more striking to a per-
son, who has been used to consider the ‘dis-

219

position and grouping of objects, than the
manner in which the general outline of the
town appears to yield aud vary according
tothe shape of its foundation; with now
and then a counter-acting line, that gives, a
zest and spirit to the composition. | Nota
projecting rock or knoll, no “ coigne of
vantage” but is occupied: the buildings
advancing, or retiring from the eye, accord-
ing to the nature of their situation; while
the happy mixture of trees completes ‘the
whole. Much of this is probably owing to
Jucky accident, as well as to judicious de-
sign; but what if Mr. Brown, or any of his
followers, had been employed to lay out
such a town according to their conceptions
of scenery! what gunpowder-plots. should
we have had, as at Powis Castle,* not to
procure, but to get rid of the effects of ac-
cident, and to reduce the whole to their
system of monotony! As I recollect my ad-
miration of ‘the circumstances I have just
mentioned at’ Tivoli, so I remember my

* Letter to Mr. Repton.

226

disappointment the first time I approached
Bath, notwithstanding the beauty of the
stone with which it is built, and of many of
the parts on a nearer view. Whoever con-
siders what are the forms of the summits,
how little the buildings are made to yield te
the ground, and how few trees are mixed
with them, will:account for my disappoint-
ment, and: aera lament the cause: of
it.

When a town built acasty on ra ‘salad
is viewed at a distance, the stummits.of the
houses are of much less consequence; for
they then either disappear totally, or are so
blended with each other that their shapes
are searcely distinguished. But observe
how those buildings, which are meant to
have the principal effect in the general
view of a town, are varied and adorned ;
observe what are the objects which thea
strike our eyes either in real cities, or in
those with which the fertile imagination of
painters has enriched their landscapes ;
towers, domes, columns, open arches, clus-
ters of pillars with all their finished orna-

221

ments ; or else the more pointed forms of
Gothic splendour and magnificence, such
as we ofien view them in reality, and as
they strike the imagination in Milton’s
glowing description of

—Some renown’d metropolis,
With glittering spires and pinnacles adorn’d,
Which now the rising sun gilds with his beams.

What a differentiaspect would a city pre-
sent, in which all the buildings were nearly
of the same height, and roofs and chimnies
the most conspicuous objects ! such, how-
ever, is the appearance of a number of ex-
pensive houses in the country. Yet, in my
opinion, a mansion with its offices, as being
a mass Of building independent of all others,
the highest parts of which are not eclipsed
by the superior height and magnitude of
other edifices, but are conspicuous from al]
parts, has very little relation in its generad
character to a house in a city : it should
rather be considered in point of effect, and
when viewed at some distance. asa whole

OAD
Ah as keh

city under the same circumstances ; in
which, though the summits of the general
mass of houses are neglected, those of the
highest, and consequently the most conspi-
cuous buildings, have always a full share of
the architect's attention.

In walking about Blenheim, I have been
repeatedly struck with the excellence of the
principle displayed by Vanbrugh in all that
regards the summit, whatever objections
may be made to many of the parts in detail.
Wherever the smallest portion of it was to
be seen, and from whatever quarter, whe-
ther between, or above trees, the grandeur,
richness, and variety of it never failed to
make a strong impression, and to’ suggest
to me how insipid a bit of slated roof anda
detached chimney, would have been in the
same view. It certainly appears to be the
most obvious of all reflections, that as the
highest part of an object is the most'seen,
in all the more distant views, the form
of it, where such views often present them-
selves, should be carefully studied ; but

223

look at our houses, and you would sup-
pose that it had seldom occurred to the
builders, or that it was considered by them
as a matter of little consequence... On this
subject we have received an important les-
son from one, whom Swift has represented
as an architect, not only without lecture
but without thought.*

Vanbrugh’s ‘aim in decorating the sum-
mit of Blenheim, was to produce richness
and variety, and still to preserve the idea
of massiveness ; and where an artist of ge-
nius has any point strongly in view, and pur-
sues it with enthusiasm, he will generally
go beyond the mark: what he does produce,
however, will not have that worst of faults,
insipidity:: The enthusiasm of Michael An-
gelo, which so often produced the grand-
est and most striking attitudes, at other
times led him to twist the human figure in-
to such singular and capricious forms, as
border on caricatura: and in the same
manner Vanbrugh,by pursuing his favourite

* Van's genius, without thought or lecture,
Is hugely turn’d to architecture.

224,

ideas, may have made some of the parts;
especially in the summit, more broken or
more massive than was necessary for the
purpose heintended : but his defects should:
be corrected, like those of Michael Angelo,
by a Raphael in architecture, not by a
Carlo Marat ; and even then, though the
style would be purer, and altogether more
excellent, it might lose something of origina!
character ; and of that, perhaps, insepara-
ble mixture of excellencies and blemishes,
which sometimes appear to belong to each
other, and to strengthen the general effect.

One of the greatest difficulties with re-
spect to thesummits of our houses, certainly
arises from the chimnies; which though
not very generally attended to in point of
outward form, very materially affect the
outline of all houses from the highest to the
lowest. In .our northern climate every
house on a large scale must have a num+
ber of chimnies ; and in order to answer
the purpose for which they are made, they
must be higher than the general lev el of the
summit : if, therefore, what I have said on

095

the subject of summits be just, the appears
ance and effect of chimnies cannot be a
matter of indifference. ‘The outline of a
building must depend upon the form, pro-
portion, and distribution of the principal
masses: in point of size, chimnies cannot
come under that description, but they may
mm some degree, on account of their situa-
tion ; by means of which they are them-
selves very conspicuous, and when viewed at
some distance, have a greatinfluence on the
outline of whatever part is immediately
under them. When, for instance, in the
near view of a house, you have admired the
portico with its columns, the rich capitals,
mouldings, and cornices, the balustrade
that surrounds the top, the statues, urns,
and vases with which it is adorned—should
you retire from it ten paces further, and
then look back, you may, perhaps, see seve-
ral square unornamented funnels, some-
times with earthen pots upon them, peeping
over the whole building, mixing themselves
with all the rich ornaments, and occupying
“the highest station !
VOL, II. Q

296

it cannot be denied, however, that there
is no slight difficulty in the management of
chimnies in buildings of pure architecture.
With respect to their size, if they be made
large enough to become principal masses,
they lose that sort of congruity which de-
pends on the proportion of any object to its
use: and if they be grouped together irre-
gularly for the sake of picturesque effect,
they offend against the symmetry which is
required in architecture: yet, such small
square masses as we generally see, placed
at nearly equal distances from each other,
‘have a poor unconnected appearance.

On these points little or no assistance can
be gained from pictures; I do not recollect,
at least in those of the higher schools, to
have seen any example of chimnies dis-
tinctly made out, where the building had
any pretension to ea beauty or
grandeur.

Little more assistance can he gained from
some of the most approved writers on ar-
chitecture. Palladio, for example, is totally
silent with regard to the form and effect of

207

chimnies on the outside of houses. Some,
however, though of less high authority, have
given designs for them in such forms,as they
judged would have more of variety, beauty,
or grandeur, than those:in common use; such
as turrets, obelisks, urns, columns, vases, &c.

Where is always danger in running coun-
ter to ideas of utility and congruity, and in
general to all such associations ; yet when
. by strictly confining yourself to customary
form and size, to the exact limits of utility,
and to what exclusively regards the object
itself, you destroy itsunion with the masses,
the decorations, and jhigh finishing of the —
other parts—there I think the more narrow —
and partial congruity, should give place to
one of a higher and more important na-
ture. |

Among the different shapes that have
been applied to,chimnies, there is none more
inadmissible from its striking incongruity
than that of a column ; for the eye always
takes offence, when a form,which it had been
used to see appropriated to particular pur-:
poses and situations, is placed.in a situa-

Q 2

298

tion, and: applied toa purpose of a very op-
posite nature. Turrets, we have been used
to see on’ the ‘tops of houses, and never as
supports to any thing! above them ; their
form is pleasing in’ itself, and the cireum-
stance of: their being hollow isin’ their
favour, whereas the usual ‘solidity of co-
lumns is against them. ‘Urns-and vases,
as being ‘highly: ornamental, seem well
adapted to» finished buildings on. a small
scale:' but ‘in what manner, and in what
cases, the ‘different methods ‘of im prov-
ing the appearance ‘of chimnies’ may ‘be
applied, must be left to’ the.judicious archi-
tect; whom I always suppose to be one
who adds to-the knowledge of his ownart a
Jove for'that of painting; and an acquaint-
ance with its principles. Such an artist,“I
think, would be of opinion, that one of the
first’ points in a building'is the general out-
line; and that if country ‘houses the outline
of the summit is not! the ‘least printeipal : ‘
that whatever’ will essentially improve that
outline;‘can hardly: be ‘purchased ‘by too
great a Sacrifices and that whatever tends

990

to deform and ‘disgrace it, cannot be too
carefully avoided,

As the great defect of chimnies in gene-
ral, is that of being meagre and detached,
every method of correcting that defect by
means of pleasing, yet not incongruous
forms, deserves the attention of an architect.
LT have sometimes seen in Italian architecture
chimnies connected together by arches ; and
in many of the old mansions of Gothicand of
mixed architecture, two or three chimnies
are joined together in one cluster, with open-
igs between them, but connected at top :
sometimes they are on the same line; at
other times turned to different points ; fre-
quently they are embellished with rich cor-
nices, with spiral ribs, and- other decora-
tions. ‘These old clustering chimnies, in
addition to their other merits, have that of
not assuming any other character; and al-
though the same style will not suit the purer
character of Grecian architecture, yet many
of the circumstances on which the pictu-
resque effect of such chimnies depends, are
net unworthy of notice ; from their union

230

they present a large mass, which, however,
is lightened by means of the openings ; and
is often varied, by the parts of which it is
composed being turned to different aspects:
they are likewise well connected, and are.
formed intogroups; they have agreat play of
light and shadow; and their enrichments
accord with the decorated style of the main
building. Vanbrugh has made great use.
of those circumstances at Blenheim, but he
has indulged himself in his favourite pro-
pensity to the top of his bent; and, as it is.
observed by an eminent writer en architec-
ture, has converted his chimnies into cas-
tles. He certainly had something gigantic
in ns turn of mind, and loved ta wie Pelion.
upon Ossa; his castle-like chimnies appear,
too vastand ponderous even for his building;
but in the distant views, where their want
of congruity is not apparent, they have a
very rich and grand effect. The perfection
of the art, is to give grandeur and effect,
without heayiness, or licentiousness of'style;
but if 1 were obliged to determine) between
jusipid: congruity, and incongruity which

231

produces grand and striking effects, I should
not hesitate in preferring the latter.

All that the architect can do, is to disguise,
if he cannot new model the forms of his
chimnies; they must exist, and must occupy
a conspicuous station: painters indeed, in
representing any splendid edifices, usually
take the liberty of omitting them altoge-
ther ; a liberty which in some respects we
may regret their having taken, asif they
had thought themselves obliged to make
out the form distinctly, they probably would
have contrived to make it harmonize with
the rest of the structure, and would have
afforded very useful hints to the architect.
But though on that particular point we. cam
gain little or nothing from pictures, yet for
the general forms and outlines of sum-
mits, and for that degree of enrichment
and diversity in them which accords
with purity and elegance, we must have .
recourse to the works of the great Ita-
lian masters, as well as for the enchant-
ing effects of those summits, when mixed’

232

with t-ces and scenery : such effects are
likewise displayed in many of the maguifi-
cent villas in Italy, and in other countries —
where our taste for laying every thing open
has not prevailed. These who have no
opportunity of examining the real build-
ings, may yet, from the numerous represen-
tations of them, and from the various archi-
tectural inventions and combinations dis-
played in the works of painters, find exam-+
ples of a number of different gradations,
front the mostsplendid and varied summits,
to the flat roof with the plain unadorned
parapet: all of them have their distinct
characters of grandeur, of variety, of rich-
ness, of elegance, or of simplicity ; from
which the judicious architect, and the ju-
dicious painter, will select what suits the
idea they mean to impress. |

T haye mentioned the flat roof with the
simple parapet,as between that, and the ter-
race walk under the same circumstances,
thereisavery closeafiinity ; bothof them ad-~
quitting ofenrichmentsand variations, neatly
in the same style, The same comparison,

2355

also, which has been drawn between the rais-
ed terrace with its parapet, and a gravel
walk with the ground sloping «from it,
may, with equal propriety, be made be-
tween the flat summit of a house, whether
plain or decorated, and the sloping roof.*
‘lhe summit of a house may, indeed, from
many points, be considered as an elevated
architectural fore-ground, where objects,
though distant from the eye, are strongly
marked. from their situation and character;
and the same causes which produce gran-
deur and variety in the terrace below the
eye, will produce them above it: but the
resemblance will. be more apparent, if we
suppose the spectator to be ona height,.so
that thesummitreally becomes a fore-ground
below the eye to the more distant objects.
Whatever is sloping, has, generally speak-
ing, less of grandeur, than’ what is abrupt
or perpendicular ; what has a thin edge,
than what is broad and projecting ; what
is slight and fragile, than what is strong and

* Essay on the Decorations, Xe,

234:

massive ; and the edge of the sloping roof,
and that of the gravel walk, are also alike
incapable of receiving decorations.

Mr. Burke, who has given us his ideas of
what constitutes the grand in buildings, has
not entered into particulars with respect to
the beautiful in objects of that class; but has
left us to collect its causes, aswell as its dis-
tinction from the sublime in similar objects,
from the general tenor of his Essay. The
principles which he has there laid down
are so just, and are so happily explained
and enforced, that they may readily be ap-
plied: to buildings, as to all other objects ;
though with certain exceptions and modi-
fications, which arise from the nature of
architecture. These chiefly regard waving
lines, the beauty of which was so enthusi-
astically admired, and so ingeniously set
forth by Hogarth ;* and since more fully
considered and illustrated by Mr. Burke.

* Hogarth hada most enthusiastic admiration of what he
called theline of beanty, and enthusiasm always leads'to the

verge of ridicule, and seldom keeps totally within it. My
father was very much acquaimted with him, and I remember

235

At one period, the architects throughout
Europe, were extremely fond of waving
lines. I recollect many public edifices at
Rome and at Naples m that style, the false
taste of which struck me at the time; for it
is obvious that the first principle in all ar-
chitecture, whatever its style, must be the
appearance, as well as the reality of firm-
ness and stability ; and whatever gives an
idea of a false or uncertain bearing, contra~
dicts that first prmeiple. On that account,
twisted columus have very justly been ob-
jected to: and though some of the greatest
masters, and not only those whose style of
painting has been distinguished as the or-
namental style, buteven the painters of the

his telling me, that one day Hogarth, talking to him with
great earnestuess on his'favourite subject, asserted, that ne
man thorouglily possessed with the true idea of the line of
beauty, could do any thing in an ungraceful manner : “I
myself,” added he, ‘‘ from my perfect knowledge of it,
‘¢ should not hesitate in what manner I should present any
“ thing to the greatest monarch.” ‘ He happened,” said
my father, “at that moment, to be sitting inthe most
« ridiculously awkward posture I ever beheld,”

236

Roman school have introduced them into
their pictures, yet they have rarely been
employed in the more massy parts of real
buildings.» But on the other hand, where
the principle I mentioned is not affected,
waving lines of every varied and playful
form have constantly been made use of,
and constitute the-chief beauty of some of
the most ornamental and highiy finished
parts. |

Natural objects are chiefly made up of
different gradations of waving lines; and
straight lines beingrare,and proceeding more
frequently from design than from accident,
have in them an unnatural, or at least an
artificial appearance. ‘The reverse is true
with respect to architecture: straight lines
belong to its very essence; and anyattempt
to avoid them, must in-general appear un-
natural,or affected. Itscurvesalso are regu-
lar and uniform; and those waving lines, and
their easy, but perpetually varying devia-
tions wich give sucha charm:to other ob-
jects, must chiefly be confined to the less

257

essential parts. All this indeed has been
so generally understood’ and followed in
practice, that I should not have dwelt upon
it even so long as I have, but for the sake
of pointing out the reason, why one prinei-
pal cause of the beautiful cannot take place
in the general forms of buildings ; and
why angles, which certainly are not beauti-
fal separately considered, must perpetually
occur, Still, however, among the more es-
sential parts of architecture, those are the
most beautiful, which either form an‘ easy
curve, or, from their round and polished
surface insensibly steal from the eye, and
thereby approach most nearly to the effect
of the waving lines ; such as cohunins,
arches, age De &C.

No building is more generally admired
forits beauty, than what is usually called
the temple of the Sybil at Tivoli: let us
consider then how far it possesses the qua-
Jities of beauty as they are recapitulated by
Mr. Burke for the purpose of comparing them
with those of the sublime. “In this comparison,

258

says Mr. Burke, there appears.a remarkable
contrast. For sublime objects are vast in their
dimensions ; beautiful ones comparatively
small: beauty should be smooth and polish-
ed; the great, rugged and negligent: beauty
should shun the right line, yet deviate from
it ansensibly ; the great, m many instances
loves the right line, and when it deviates,
often makes a strong deviation: beauty
should be light and delicate; the great ought
to be solid, and even massive.” ‘These qua-
hties, in stating which it appears from the
general tenor of Mr. Burke’s inquiry that
he had chiefly natural objects in view, are
perhaps less applicable to buildings than to
any other artificial objects; I believe, how-
ever, that the temple I have just mentioned
has as many of the qualities ascribed to
beauty,as the particular principles of archi-
tecture willallow. It is comparatively small;
that is, compared with the greater number
of ancient temples, especially with those
which have any pretensions to grandeur. It
is circular, and therefore shuns the nghtline,

239

and steals insensibly from the eye,and must
of course be less angular thanasquare build-
ing, the most usual form of ancient temples.
Then being surrounded by columns in. the .
same circular direction, and detached from
the main body, it has a remarkable appear-
ance of lightness; airmess and delicacy, as
opposed to what is solid, massy, and com-
pact. All these qualities and circumstances
of beauty have still an effect on the eye
even in its present mutilated state ; but the
beauty of tmt and surface would now be
lost had it been built with stone. of the finest
colour and grain, and had the whole been
as highly finished as many ancient temples
of a much larger size were finished. It was
built indeed, as I have learnt from an autho-
rity I cannot doubt, of a rough and dingy
stone of the country, which I may venture
to say must have arisen from motives of
convenience and economy, not of choice:
for l am very sure that no person who in-
tended to build sucha temple, and had a
quarry of light free-stone, and another of

240

rough dingy stone at equal distances, would
choose the Jatter for beauty, whatever he
might do for the sake of exact, imitation.
In speaking of the beauty of this temple 1
of course have supposed it to be in its per-
fect state, and» every, thing to haye:corres-
ponded with the beauty of its'general form.
ts actual state suggests many» reflections
on the effect of partial ruinvand decay ; I
‘shall, [however,: only add for the present,
that.as a further proof of its beauty,.Claude
has, repeated 1t much more frequently in_
dais landscapes than/any other building.

» With regard tothe. beauty, arising from
ssmoothness in the surface, and softness in
the colour of buildings, I cannot. forbear
mentioning a picture which I have cited in
some measure on the same account in a for-
mer,-part ; I. mean. the seaport of Claude
that did belong to. Mr. Leck. I do so be-
cause it is not only one of the best painted
pictures of that studious observer of what 1s
beautiful in art:and.in nature, but also one
of the best preserved: and: con sequentl ys

24)

the colours remain nearly in their origiftal
purity. ‘The forms of the buildings in that
picture, though greatly to be admired for
a mixture of beauty and grandeur, are not
what I aim now speaking of, but the effect
of their smoothness, and of the tenderness
of their hue; and this soft tender hue is par
ticularly apparent in the more distant build-
ing, to which the cool morning vapour, so
wonderfully expressed by the painter, adds,
a still greater softness. I could wish that
any person who well recollects, or Can again
examine the picture, would reflect on the
peculiar beauty (in its strictest sense) which
arises from the even surface, and silver pu-
rity of tint in that furthest building, from
the soft haze of the atmosphere, and the
aerial perspective produced by the union of
these circumstances, which, without any
false indistinctness, or uncertainty of out-
line, make the architecture retire from the
eye and melt into the distance. When this
union, and the character it gives to the pic-
ture, have made their ful! impression, let
him imagine one alteration to take place ;
VOL. Il. R

ad

949

namely, that in both the buildings the pre-
sent surface should be changed, for the ap-
pearance of a rough dark-coloured stone.
I believe there can be no doubt, supposing
the same formsto remain, how much their
beauty would be diminished, though their
erandeur might possibly be increased. But
let him proceed still farther, and take away
in idea the other circumstances of beauty,
which in Grecian architecture, are always
in some degree mixed with those of gran-
deur; and which may account for that air
of elegance, which prevails even in the most
majestic among them. Let all the buildings
in the picture have bulk and massiveness,
and so disposed, as to impress the fullest,
and most awful ideas of those qualities :
but on the other hand let them be with-
out lightness and airiness, or any of those
highly finished ornaments, which give such
grace to the buildings as they now stand; ©
then, if the universal feeling of mankind
would pronounce, that to deprive objects
of the qualities whieh Mr. Burke has as-
signed to beauty, would make them cease

245

to be beautiful, and if the substituting of
those which he has assigned to the sublime,
would give them that character and no
other—then the distinction he has made, is
founded in truth and nature:

This leads me to consider, whetheft by
rendering such buildings picturesque, we
should not equally destroy their beauty.
Vor the purpose of this inquiry, { could
wish that any person who was desirous of
attending to the subject, and who had be-
fore him the print of the sea-port I have
been mentioning, would reflect on acircum-
stance which I have not dwelt upon in the
distinction between the beautiful and the
sublime—that of symmetry. I wish him
to observe, how the continuity, succession,
and correspondence of the lines and parts,
make the eye glide easily from one to the
other. First, let him attend to the unbroken
syccession of the columns in the round
portico, and that of the cornice and the
balustrade on the top ofgit; then the sym-
metry of the two square towers in the fur-

R 2

5

244

thest building, and the effect of that sym-
metry in their perspective gradation ; as
likewise of all the lines, as they go off in
the same direction towards the misty hori-
zon.* When he has gradually considered
and-fixed in his mind the whole arrange-
ment, continuity, and dependance of one
part upon another, let him suddenly con-

‘ceive the whole broken and disturbed.
‘Where the eye now follows the winding

columns of the portico, and finds the same

lime continued in the cornice, and then

again in the balustrade, it might see an un-
connected group of pillars, with part of the

entablature and balusters remaining ; then

a sudden break, and then other mutilated

* T am here speaking of symmetry, not merely as an object

of the understanding, but also as it affects the sense, by the
‘ease and facility with which the eye follows correspondent
lines, The more distinct that correspondence, the greater
that facility; and this seems to me to be one priucipal
cause‘ of the difference of character, between the Grecian

and the Gothic architectures : the symmetry of the former

“is obvious—that of the latter is often concealed by ai in-
“thicacy ofits parts) - OF pe ow) ooo uk

245

parts, the ground being strewed with: fallen
capitals, fragments of ornaments, angt
masses of stone. In the further building the
two towers might have fallen in unequally,
and where the doors and windows had been,
wide shattered openings might appear, with
bits of mouldings decayed and confused. I
am not here supposing, what would be most
favourabletomy argument, that all this were
to be seen inthe crude state of sudden ruin ;
I suppose it to be mellowed by time, and
adorned,as usual, by the painter, with many
circumstances of beauty, mixed with what
was abrupt and picturesque. Noman can
be more ready to acknowledge the charms
of buildings in such a state ; yet still I will
ask, can the same title suit both states of
these buildings? can that which was design-
ed with the most studied attention to the
arrangement’ and harmony of its parts, to
the choice and execution of its ornaments,
remainequally beautiful, or retain thesame
character, when all those circumstances.
which the architect intended as beauties,
are mutilated and defaced?

246

It may be objected, that, according to
what I have said in a former part upon the
principle of insensible transitions,* a build-
ing in ruin, is often more strictly beautiful
than it was when entire, as the lines must
then have been more distinct and hard ;
for it is clear that the ivy, shrubs and ve-
getation, which usually accompany old
ruins, render their lines more soft and melt-
ing into each other. This is an objection
which ought to be fairly met, and fully an-
swered ; forthe principle applies univer-
sally. But whence does this softness, whence
do these insensible transitions arise? from
vegetation ; and there cannot be any com-
* parison between vegetation, and brick or
stone, in point of softness of effect. ‘The
comparison ought to be made between en-
tire buildings, and buildings when broken
and shattered; the other circumstances are
hardly less foreign to a building, than the
foliage of an over-hanging tree which might
happen to grow near it. It is true thatthere

* Essay on Artificial Water, p. 118.

247

are vegetable productions in a manner be»
longing to old walls, such as mosses, &c.
the tints of which are extremely soft, as well
as their general appearance ; and, on that
account, they may seem to have just pre-
tensions to beauty. But as they announce
something of age, decay,and abandonment,
the mind, from the powerful and extensive
influence of that principle, called assocta-
tion of ideas, is unwilling to give them a ti-
tle, which, as I conceive, implies the fresh-
ness of youth ; or, at least, a state of high
and perfect preservation.

Before I proceed any further on this sub-
ject, 1 will offera tew remarks on the above-
mentioned principle of association. All ex-
ternal objects affect us in two different ways;
by the impression they make on the senses,
and by the reflections they suggest to the
mind. ‘These two modes, though very dis-
tinct in their operations, often unite in pro-
ducing one effect; the reflections of the
mind, either strengthening, weakening, or
giving a new direction to the impression re-
ceived by the eye. In a piece of natural

248

scenery, for instance, whether it be confin-
ed or extensive, a wood, a river, or a distant
view, every eyeis more or less pleased, with
a happy combination of forms, colours,
lights, and shadows: but, together with
these, other considerations proceeding from
the mind only, are often imperceptibly
blended ; in most of which, utility has a
principal share. The different qualities
and uses of trees ; the advantages of a ri-
ver to commerce, to agriculture, or manu-
factures ; the local geography and_ history
of an extensive prospect, are all considera-
tions totally distinct from the sense of see-
_ ing, and from the combinations which af-
fect it ; yet they have a known, and in
many cases a very strong influence on its
pleasures. From the force of this associa-
tion, places of great celebrity are viewed
with much more delight, than those which
are little known, though of equal, or greater
beauty: and, I believe, it would be difficult
for a man of poetical enthusiasm, to judge
impartially between a beautiful scene in

249

some obscure district, and one in the clas-
sic regions of Grecce,
“ Where hot a mountain rears its head unsung.”

If this be true of natural scenery in all its
characters of grand, beautiful, or pictu-
resque, the case is much stronger with re-
spect to artificial objects, especially the
productions of architecture; in considering
which there is a constant reference to the
understanding. Onthat account, the beauty
of a building considered separately, depends
on symmetry and design ; consequently
what is foreign to it (as vegetation is) can-
not supply the place of that appropriate
beauty, and make it beautifulas a building,
though by such means, an object of a mixed
character with many qualities of beauty,
may be formed. ‘The ruins, therefore, in
Claude’s pictures, having for the most part
their sudden breaks and abruptnesses dis-
guised by vegetation, and all the stronger
marks of violence or decay softened by dis-
tance, are, in many instances, beautiful in
point of outline considered generally as

250

objects, but not as pieces of architecture ;
they are beautiful as to their general tint,
and light and shadow, but not in regard to
symmetry and design, for they are niutila-
ted and irregular ; still, however, from the
reasons I have mentioned, the ruins in
Claude’s pictures, are in perfect unison
with that select idea of beauty, which he
sought after.

But, besides the softness and play of out-
line that they receive from vegetation, his
ruins have another claim to the character
which so prevails in his landscapes. I have
before observed, that buildings of Grecian
architecture, even where their prevailing
character is grandeur, have yet an air ef
elegance mixed with it; so, likewise, when
they become picturesque from being in ruin,
the character of beauty still lingers about
their forms and their ornaments, however
disfigured ; a circumstance which very es-
sentially distinguishes them from the ruins
of castles, and mere massive buildings.
This may account for the very few exam-
ples in Claude’s pictures of ruins totally

251

without ornament, and with their broken
parts strongly marked. ‘Two instances oc-
cur to me in the Liber Veritatis ; the first, -
of a shattered castle on a rock, in one ot
the only two sea-storms of his painting =
the second, of a singular sort of hovel in the
Temptations of St. Anthony ; and both
these exceptions, more strongly prove the
motive of his general choice, and of these
deviations from it, than if they had not ex-~
isted. Another circumstance is, that he
rarely painted ruins in the immediate fore-
ground ; perfect architecture continually :
awhich seems to imply, that in his opinion
what was broken and abrupt,should not, in
thestyle of scenery which he represented, be
brought too near the eye, but kept at such
a distance, that the whole might in a great
degree be blended together. Thisleadsme to
another consideration, namely, that as al-
most all the pictures of Claude, represent
Mornings and Evenings of the mildest kind,
the lights and shadows are such as take off
from all harshness, and give to every thjng
anair of softness and repose ; both of them

252

qualities very different from those of the
picturesque, which demands sudden lights,
and deep shadows.

It is not a little remarkable, that of the
two most celebrated of mere landscape
painters, Gaspar, and Claude, the one who
painted wild, broken, picturesque nature,
should have hardly any of those buildings
which are allowed to be most picturesque 5
and that the other, whose attention to all
that is soft, engaging, and beautiful is al-
most proverbial, should comparatively have
but few pictures without them. As these
two great painters knew perfectly the effects
which they intended to produce, and the
means of producing them, it may be use-
ful to imquire, whether they did not proceed
upon principle, in this seeming deviation
from it. I have remarked in a former
part,* in the case of two eminent painters
of figures how much an exclusive attention
_ to what is strictly beautiful, will lead to-
-wards monotony; it is not less true in land-

* Essay on the Picturesque, chap. 3, near the end
& saa : / ”

geape. Claude, probably, was. sensible of
this, and must have felt that by confining
himself chiefly to morning and evening
lights, he precluded himself from a number
of efiects, of a singular and striking kind;
but which did not accord with his concep-
tions of beauty. It was therefore very na-
tural, that on account of this voluntary —
exclusion, he should seek for every variety
which would accord with such conceptions;
and nothing could answer his purpose so —
well, as the ruins he saw around him. They
exhibit great diversity of form, and they
both give and recal ideas of beauty and
magnificence ; and he found that, by keep-
ing them in the second. ground, by mixing
them with foliage, and surrounding them
with his atmosphere and mild light and
shadow, their particular abruptness would
vanish, their general variety only remain,
Gaspar, the rival and contemporary of
Claude, like him lived at Rome ; and he
who gave such masterly representations of
all that is broken in ground, in branches,
and foliage, could notbe insensible to simi-

B54

lar effects in ruins ; but if I may be allowed
to conjecture why he did not represent,
what seems so congenial to his own cha-
racter, and that of the scenes he painted,
I should say, that it was precisely that very
passion, and strong predilection for similar
effects in natural objects, which prevented
him. Examine his pictures and prints with
that idea: observe his elegant, but unbroken
and unornamented buildings, and see how
happily and unaffectedly they arecontrasted
with his broken ground and wild thickets,
and all the play of his foliage.

One great use of buildings in landscape,
which he seems to have felt very strongly,
is that of a resting place to the eye, on
which it may fix and dwell, and find relief
from the intricacy, the indistinctness, and
the monotony of mere earth and vegetation.
On that account, where there is much in-
tricacy in the forms and dispositions of
trees, foliage, and ground, should it be con-
tinued in the buildings also, the eye would
want a necessary relief. In Claude, there
_is little abruptness in the parts, and a ges

255

neral repose is diffused over the whole ; and
therefore, broken buildings, such as he se-
lected, form the degree of contrast he had
occasion for. In Gaspar, the general land-
scape is broken and intricate, but the build-
ings which he has chosen, give to the eye a
firm and solid resting place ; and it may be
observed also, that strait lines and angles,
besides their being necessary to the appear-
ance of uprightness and stability in build. .
ings, are also of use in detaching them from
the surrounding objects, and in contrasting
them with the playful forms of vegetation ;
and, therefore, if buildings could be made
to look, and to be equally firm without
them, the result of the whole would bemuch
less pleasing.

As buildings in their various styles, are
confessedly among the most striking orna-
ments of andacane. it appears sienna in-
credible that there should he a landscape
painter, and one of the highest class, who
seldom painted any buildings whatsoever ;
yet, I believe, that was the case with Salva-
tor Rosa, In his landscapes, few traces

256

of architecture appear, or even of human
habitation. He seems to have thought our
puny efforts, unworthy of being allied with
those vast piles of stone, the savage gran-
deur of which his pencil alone has truly
exhibited ; and that the dens and caverns
which they afford, were the proper dwell-
ings for the savage race, whom he has
placed amidst such scenes. But, besides
these reasons, drawn from the poetry of his
art, he might have had others, more imme-
diately drawn from the art itself, which may
help to confirm my conjectures with respect
to Claude and Gaspar. It is obvious that
any buildingof Grecian architecture, either
entire, or ruined, would have been out of
character in such scenes ; cottages, and
hovels, however picturesque, too mean and
familiar : ruined castles and towers appear
to be the buildings most analogous ; but
the same reasons that possibly induced Gas-
par to avoid ruins, would act with double
force upon S. Rosa. It is, however, very
certain, that the same touch, which so pow-
erfully chayacterized the solid masses and

257

the broken fragments of rocks, would no
less forcibly have marked those of ruins ;
and we might expect, from a’general idea
of his style, that they would form a distin-
guished part of many of his pictures: as
they do not, and as his rejection of them,
and almost of buildings altogether from his
landscapes, could not arise from ignorance
of their forms, or from inability to represent
them, it must have been founded upon prin-
ciple ; and the reasonings and feelings of
such a mind as his in all that respects his
own art, are well worth attending to.*

Having mentioned what seem to me the
most characteristic marks of the grand, and

‘* These remarks must be confined to those pictures:
where the landscape is principal, and the scenery such
as he usually painted, wild and romantic. In the fa-
mous picture at Lord Townsend’s, there isa column,
with fragments of architectural ornaments ; for the subject,
if it be Marius amidst the ruins of Carthage, required such
an accompaniment, In one or twoof his etchings, there are
also bits of architecture introduced with equal propriety ;
and instead of his broken trees, they are accompanied with
cypresses. All these i instatices prove that he did not work
capriciously, but on settled principles.

VOL. II. ©

OAS

we

the beautiful in buildings ; and having of-
fered some reasons, why the use, and the
neglect of those buildings which are generally.
allowed to be picturesque, should in many
pictures be socontrary to what sve might ex-
pect from the general style, and from the
turn of mind of those who painted them, I
shall now offer some remarks on the cha-
racter of the picturesque as it more or less
prevails in different. kinds of buildings
viewed under different circumstances. I
shall also mention the hints which archi-
tects appear to have taken from irregular
additions to buildings, and the advant ages
which possibly might result with respect to
their art, were the plan and form of houses
sometimes to be guided by the picturesque
disposition of thetrees, and of the other ob-
jects by which they would be accompanied.

I have shewn in an early part of my first
Essay, how time and decay convert a beau-
tiful building into a picturesque one, and
by what process the change is operated.
That the character of every building must
be essentially changed by decay, is very

259

apparent ; and, likewise, that the alteration
must be in proportion as the original cha-
racter or design is obliterated by that decay:
a building, however, does not immediately
change its original character, but parts with
it by degrees; and seldom, perhaps, loses it
entirely. Itwill probably be acknowledged,
that a beautiful building is in its most beau-
tiful state, when the columns are in every
part round and smooth, the ornaments en-
tire, and the whole design of the artist in
every part complete. If this be granted,
then from the first moment that the smooth-
ness, the symmetry, the design of sucha
building suffers any injury, it is manifest
that its beauty is thereby diminished: and
it may be observed, that there is a state of
injury and decay, in which we only perceive
and lament the dimimution of beauty, with-
out being consoled for it by any other cha-
racter. In proportion as the injury in-
creases, In proportion as the embellishments
that belong to architecture, the polish of its
columns, the highly finished execution of its
capitals and mouldings, its urns and statues,
§ 2

260

are changed for what may be called the em-
bellishments of ruins, for incrustations and
weather stains, and for the various plants
that spring from, or climb over the walls—
the character of the picturesque prevails
over that of the beautiful ; and at length,
perhaps, all smoothness, all symmetry, all
trace of design are totallygone. But there
may still remain an object which attracts
notice. Has it then no character when that
of beauty is departed P is it ugly ? is it m-
sipid ? is it merely curious? Ask the pain-
ter, or the picturesque traveller; they never
abandon a ruin to the mere antiquary, till
none but an antiquary would observe it.
Whatever then has strong attractions as a
visible object, must have a character ; and
that which has strong attractions for the
painter, and yet is neither grand nor beau-
tiful, is justly called picturesque.

Take again a building, the sole character
of which is grandeur. On that, the changes
are less sensible than on the delicate quali-
ties of beauty ; but when the walls begin to
lose their firmness, and in parts to. totter ;

261

when large cracks and breaches appear, that
"species of architectural grandeur, which is
derived from one of its greatest sources—
solidity, is diminished in proportion. It is
long, however, before the picturesque pre-
vails over that original grandeur: from the
first approaches of decay, they are indeed
insome degree mixed and combined with
each other; but the ruins of Agrigentum —
and Selinus will testify, that though beauty
in buildings may be destroyed by time and
decay, grandeur resists their power; and
by a singular agreement, these most solid
bodies, resemble what Milton says of imma-
terial substance, and

Cannot but by annihilating die.

The chaste and noble style of Grecian
architecture, does not admit of a number of
sudden breaks and variations of form, or of
enrichments over a large part of the surface;
it therefore never displays a marked _pictu-
resque character, till in ruin. But Gothic
buildingsare full of breaks and divisions, and
the parts highly and profusely enriched :

262

the correspondence between the parts being
also much less obvious than in Grecian ar-
chitecture, the whole has often an appa-
rent irregularity; and from these circum-
stances many Gothic structures, even in
their entire and perfect state, display a
marked picturesque character. That cha-
racter, however, cannot but be encreased
by decay : abruptness and irregularity are
two of its principal sources, and conse-
quently every building must be more pic-
turesque in a ruinousstate, than it was when
entire ; for,in a perfect habitable building,
however abruptly and irregularly the lines
of the walls and roofs may cross each other,
yet each break which decay oecasions in
them, at once encreases both their irregu-
larity and their abruptness.

Of all ruins, those of the ancient Greek
and Roman buildings are on mniany accounts
the most interesting : in no other buildings
are the rival qualities’ of grandeur and
beauty so happily united; and to that union
is added the prejudice in favour of ‘their
high antiquity, and of their being the pre-

a

263

ductions of two people, renowned for every
art and accomplishment, that can raise or
adorn our nature.

‘Next to them, and in some points of view
to us still more interesting, are the ruins
of abbeys and castles. I have named
them together, though nothing can be more
strongly contrasted than their two charac-~
ters. ‘The abbey, built in some sequestered
spot, and surrounded by woods, announces
religious calm and security. Its sanctity,
evenin those early times of turbulence, but.
hkewise of superstition, was thought a suffi-
cient safeguard ; and its structure, though

solid and massive, seems designed for orna-
‘ ment, not for defence. All the minute and
detached decorations of its outside, the pin-
nacles, the open-work, the high and spacious
windows. divided into small compartments
by the lightest partitions, and enriched with
‘all the refinements of Gothic sculpture, were
ill-adapted. to defy hostile attacks.
' In:the castle, every thing proclaims sus-
picious, defiance; the security of strength
and precaution. A commanding, or at least

264.

anuncommanded situation ; high solid walls
and towers; the draw-bridge, the portcullis;
few apertures, and those small; no breaks
nor projections that would interfere with
‘strength and solidity. The ruins of these
once magnificent edifices, are the pride and
boast of this island: we may well be proud
of them; not merely in a picturesque point
of view: we may glory that the abodes of
tyranny and superstition are in ruin.

In the third degree are old mansion-houses
‘In their various styles: few, however, of
those which have been long uninhabited,
have stood the shock of time like castles and
abbeys; not having’ been protected like
them, either by their own solidity, or by the
‘religious veneration of mankind. Butsome
of these old mansions, that are.only ina
state of neglect, not of ruinous decay, ac-
companied by theirwalled terraces, by their
‘summer-houses covered with ivy,and mixed
with wild vegetation, have the most. pic-
turesque effect. Where any of them are
sufficiently preserved to be capable of being
repaired, and are intended to be made ha-

265

bitable, too much caution cannot be used
in clearing away those disguises and intri-
cacies, which the hand of time has slowly
created, lest with those accompaniments,
theirancient and venerable character should
be destroyed.

Last of all are the different cottages, mills,
outhouses, and hovels ; many of which are
in their entire state extremely picturesque,
and almost all become so in decay.

The most picturesque habitable buildings,
are old castles which were originally form-
ed for defence as well as habitation : they
in general consist of towers of different
heights, and of various outworks and_pro-
jections ; particularly where the abruptness
and irrregularity of the ground, has in a
manner forced the architect to adopt the
same irregularity in the shapes and heights
of his building. . It is not improbable that
many of those old castles owe the extreme
picturesqueness of their appearance, to their
having been built at different times, just as
oceasion required ; for by those means, as we
well know, a number of common houses

266

become picturesque, the separate parts of
which have nothmg of that character. Why
are they so? Because they are. built of va-
rious heights, i various directions, and be-
cause those variations are sudden and irre-
gular. Architects, like painters, (or to speak
more. justly, like men of genius and obser-
vation in’ every art,) have in many. cases.
taken advantage of the effects of accident,
and have converted the mere shifts of.anen
who went the nearest way. to work, mto
sources of beauty and decoration., An -it
regular room, for instance, detached: from
the body of the house, with a low. covered
passage to it, may have given to architects
the idea of pavillions, connected with ‘the
house by arcades, or colonnades; butin the
use which they have made of these acci+
dents, they have proceeded according to
the genius of their own art. That of painte
img admits, and often delights in nregula-
rity : architecture, though, like other. arts,
it studies variety, yet it must in general
consider that variety as subject to symmetry,
especially in buildings on,a. large scale, and

267

highly decorated ; a symmetry not always

ostentatiously displayed, but still to be

traced through the whole design. In trans-

ferring something of the variety and pictu-

resque effect of mregular buildings to re-

gular architecture, the architect proceeds

no further than the buildings themselves:

but the painter, from having observed the

effect of trees among the irregular parts of
old houses, may, in his pictures, have been

induced to add them in correspondent situ-

ations to regular pieces of architecture,
though he may not have seen them so plac-
ed in reality. The mere architect would.
not place them there; but it is from the

joint labours of the two artists, that the im-

prover must form himself.

Some. of the most striking and varied
compositions, both in paintmg and ‘in na-
ture, are those where the more distant view
is seen between the stems, and across and
under branches of large trees ; and wheve
some of those trees, aré very near the
eye. But where trees are so disposed, a
house with a regular extended front could

268

not be built, without destroying together
with many of the trees, the greatest part of
such well composed pictures. Now, if the
owner of such a spot, instead of making a
regular front and sides, were to insist upon
having many of the windows turned _to-
wards those points where the objects were
most happily arranged, the architect would
be forced into the invention of a number of
picturesque forms and combinations, which
otherwise mightnever have occurred to him;
and would be obliged to do what so seldom
has been done—accommodate his building
to the scenery, not make that give way to
his building.

Many are. the advantages, both in re-
spect to the outside and the inside, that
might result from such a method. In re-
gard to the first, it is scarcely possible that
a building formed on such a plan, and so
accompanied, should not be an ornament
to the landscape, from whatever point it
might be viewed. Then the blank spaces
that would be left where the aspect sud-
denly changed (which by the admirers of

269

strict regularity would be thought incurable
blemishes) might, by means of trees and
shrubs, or of climbing plants trained about
wood or stone work, be transformed into
beauties ; which, at the same time that they
were interesting in the detail, would very
essentially contribute to the rich effect of
the whole. |

I am well convinced, that such a dispo-
sition of the outside would suggest. to an
artist of genius, no less varied and_pictu-
resque effects within ; and that the ar-
rangement of the rooms, would oftentimes
be at least as convenient as ina more uni-
form plan. I am, likewise, convinced, that
a house of that kind would not be admired
by men of a picturesque taste only ; for I
have had occasion to observe, that men of
a different turn are often struck with’a
certain appearance of irregularity in the
distribution of a house, and in the shapes
of the rooms ; and even to conceive an
idea of comfort from it. With respect
to the improvement of the view, there can
be no doubt; and whatever constitutes

270

a good fore-ground to the yiew from the
house, will, generally speaking, have equally
a good effect from every other point. In-
finite are the ways,even in an absolute flat,
of varying by means of trees and planta-
tions, the characters of the fore-ground, of
the middle plan, and of the two sides; as
likewise of connectingthem with each other
and with the remoter distance in ‘such a
manner, that nothing may look bald and va-
cant, and that the buildings may from most
points, be combined w ith other objects.

But where a professed layer-out of grounds
has the planning of the whole, his first point
is to display the mansion, and to make a
long extent of grass in front. For that
purpose he clears the middle part, or leaves
it quite open, while the sides are either
planted with clumps, or with close planta-
tions, which, going off in regular sweeps
from the house,make a formal border round
the lawn; so that the building may be
viewed from every part of it with little
or no interruption. It seems as if the.
word of command given by Satan to his

271

troops, had been issued by. Mr. Brown at
the hall door of each place—

| Vanguard, to right and left, the front unfold.*

There is one class of buildings of a very
distinct character from any of those already
meutioned, which by no means deserves to
remain unnoficed—that of Bridges. In
every style of scenery they are objects of the
most interesting kind: whether we consi-
der their great and obvious utility, and the
almost intrinsic beauty of their forms ; or
their connexion with the most pleasing
scenes in nature, and the charms which they
add to water, and receive from it in return.
The simplest construction of a stone bridge,
and therefore probably the earliest, is where
long flatstones are placed upon others more
thick and massive : such bridges we often
see over brooks in villages, and they are ad-

* However wretched the routine of a professed im-
prover may be, there is a sort of comfort in having things
done by a regular practitioner; for as the apothecary in
Moliere says, “ Quoi qu'il puisse arriver, on est assuré que
Jes choses sogt tonjours dans lordre.”

?

272

mirably suited to that style and scale of
scenery. © - |
Such a construction seems less adapted
to bridges of great extent: there is, how-
ever, an instance of a most stupendous
bridge in China, built on that simple
plan. Three hundred piers are joined to-
gether without arches, by blocks of black
marble, each of which is fifty-four feet in
Jength, and six feet in breadth and in thick+
ness: seven of these marble slabs laid paral-
lel to each other, make the breadth of the
bridge ; the length of which, exclusive of
the abutments, must be sixteen thousand
two hundred feet, that is above three miles
in length.* When we consider the vast ex-
pence and difficulty, even under the most
favourable circumstances, of procuring and
transporting above two thousand pieces of
marble of such dimensions, it does not seem
improbable, that this bridge was erected
* This account is taken from Fischer’s Architecture. He
has given a print of the bridge in book S, plate 14 ; but after
describing the particulars, has the following reference :

«Vide Martin Mart, who measured them very exactly.
Atlas of China, page 124.” ‘

-

973

bite: arches were known in China; and
consequently that we owe this surprising
work, not to ideas of magnificence, but te
the ignorance of a principle in building,
with which every common. stone-mason is
pragtically acquainted.

The contrivance of a wooden centre, on
which a circular wall of brick, stone, or any
hard material might be built, so as to re-
main self-supported after the removal of
the original support, nay itself capable of
sustaming the greatest weight, implies a
very advanced state of the arts, Accord-
ingly it is generally thou ght, that: no exam-
ple of an arch. prior to the. Macedonian con-
quest, can be produced, in the countries _
known to the ancient Greeks and Romans ;
though buildings of great extent and mag-
nificence had been executed i in them, long
before that period.
| This invention of arches, is an epoch of
_great_moment in architecture. Openings,
formed by the most beautiful curves, were
_ found to be the firmest ofall suppor ts; these
therefore gave a new character to many

VOL. II, i

974

buildings, but to none more than to bridges;
and when all the circumstances of an arch-
ed bridge over a broad and rapid river, from
the foundation to the last finishing, are con-
sidered, it may be reckoned among the no-
blest efforts of architecture ; uniting,per-
haps, in a higher degree than any other
building, beauty, grandeur, utility, and
Teal, as well as apparent difficulty of ex-
ecution.

The two general divisions of architecture
in England, the Grecian and the Gothic,
are as strongly marked in bridges as in other
buildings. In the old bridges that were built
in the neighbourhood of castles and abbeys,
and probably about the same period, the
pointed arches, and the strong projecting
buttresses, while they accord with similar
forms in the edifices, to which those bridges
vere in some measure appendages, gave to
them a remarkable appearance of firmness
and resistance to floods, with a peculiar
depth and opposition of light and shadow.
This agreement between the principal build-

ing, whether a castle, an abbey, or a great

219

mansion, and that of the bridge which be-
longs, or seems to belong to it, has not al-

_ ways been attended to in modern improve-

ments.. Vanbrugh has given to his bridge
at Blenheim, the same character, which pre-
vails in the principal fabric. Mr. Brown,
on the other hand, in the bridge of which
he was the architect, has tried the opposite
extreme—that of making it from its plain-
ness, the, strongest possible contrast to the
whole mass of buildings. Still, however, in
one point of view, he did not neglect unity
of character ; for, as he had banished all
enrichment from the banks of his river, he’
perhaps thought it right to adapt the style
of his bridge to that of the water.

But, although it appears to me, that any
bridge at Blenheim required something in
_its character, more analogous to the estab-
lished style of architecture at that place, yet
I am very far from objecting to plain bridges
in general; on the contrary, I think it inay
_safely be asserted, that of all buildings, an
_arched stone bridge is that which will bear
the greatest degree of plainness and siinpli-

T 2

e76

city, without the danger of bal dncss, “The
situation of a bridge most commonly’ ‘con-
fers on it ‘such CS that’ it wants no
ornaments to mark it,and to detacli ‘it’ ron
other OE then the arclies fhemselve és
‘that they 1 require no artificial breaks or oe
bellishments to. disguise « or adorn them; for
their natural arrangement, is as simple and
beautiful as their an : whereas in some
of the necessary apertures in other buildings,
‘such j as the windos*s in houses, there is ‘no-
“thing of intrinsic beauty or graiideur; andin
“their: arrangement, the aichittnt ia frequently
‘embarrassed how ‘to° make: beauty accord
; with convenience. he
W here richness, ‘assiless, depth ‘and
variety of light and shadow, are the’ archi-
tect’s principal aim, bold, ‘Varied, and mas-
‘sy projections, with ornaments ¢f a ¢or-
‘respondent character, aréthe obvious’ means
of producing ‘them. But where his ‘aim'is
‘beauty, and that desiree and style of light-
ness which is consistent with a look’ cat S0-
lidity, ‘there, I believe; such / projections,

4

a

whether, plain or ornamented, are highly
: injurious t to the pr oposed effect ; and more
so in a bridge, than in any other building.
Perhaps no building of equal solidity,,has SO
light an appearance ¢ asa light stone bridge ;
and that I imagine is owing to the atari
pro ortion of w hat | is dosed up, compared
wit what is open; to the form of the open-
ings; and to the peculiarity of situation,
from which a bridge seems, as it were, to
pass from one side of a river to the
other, with something analogous to mo-
tion: and this method of considering such
objects, though it may appear fantastic,
will, I believe, lead | to very just princi-
ples.

Whatever gives the eo of easy and
rapid motion, gives in the same. propor-
tion that of lightness ; ; and, on the other
hand; whatever 1 impresses the idea of resis-
tance to motign, in Fhe same ‘proportion

slau?

* All the circumstances of lightness, and of massiveness,
together with its ‘resistance to motion, are finely opposed to
gach other in Milton’s ‘battle of the ‘Angels : ‘ies

278

true that all solid buildings, though not
equally immoveable, are in themselves
equally motionless ; but where the surface
is even, the eye glides easily along it, and
that ideal motion of the sight, is in some
degree transferred to the object itself: all’
easy transitions, therefore, from one ob-
ject, or from one part of an object to an-
other, which constitute so principal a cause
of beauty, are equally a cause of lightness ;
and it may be observed, that many of the
terms used on such occasions, are borrowed
from those of motion. To apply this to the
present subject I must observe, that where
the general surface of a bridge is even, and
where the projections and ornaments are

Light as the lightning glimpse they ran, they flew.
From their foundations Joos’ning to and fro,

- They pluck’d the seated hills with all their load,
Rocks, waters, woods, and by the shaggy tops
Uplifting, bore them in their hands. ;

The grandeur arising from absolute immobility, is no, less
finely marked in the same book : a8
—Under his burning wheels

The steadfast empyrean shook throughout,

All but the throne itself of God.

279

such as give relief to the whole, but do not
break the continuity of its outline, the eye
moves easily and rapidly along from arch to
arch, till it reaches the opposite side : but
that ideal motion, with the lightness which
attends it is gone, whenever the eye is stop-
ped and checked in its progress by project-
ing parts. Where such projections create
any grand, or picturesque effect, they com-
pensate the want of lightness; and in re-
ality cannot be said to injure, but to change
the character of the object. In other cases
they merely injure it; and of this, in my
mind, there cannot be a more glaring exam-
ple, than in the columns of : Blackfriar’s
Bridge, considering them solely on the prin-
ciple which I have just been discussing :
but indeed it appears to me, that, in gene-
ral, columns are ill suited to bridges, as they
can hardly be made essential parts of them;
and it is an acknowledged maxim, that what
is ornamental, should, if possible, appear to
answer some purpose of utility. Where, in-
deed, ornaments are trivial in size and con-
sequence, though beautiful in form, such as

280

leaves, td ie festoons, &c. utility is not
required ; but to make columns support
some trifle, manifestly placed upon theni as
'- an excuse for their introduction, is to de-
grade a member of such ereat and obvious
use, to a mere gewgaw.

I know that there are very high autho-
rities for introducing columns. in bridges,
2s little more than mere or naments } and
that. examples may be produced from the
works both of ancientand modern ar chitects,
and also 1 in! those of some eminent painters : :
but althou gh it may appear great presumip-
tion in me to question such authorities, I
still must think. that in a bridge, columns
can har dly be disposed and connécted to-
gether i In the ; most advantageous inanner;
and of all the. members of architecture. , they
suffer most from disconnection. wo st
the noblest effects ‘of columns, are where
they are grouped together, ina bold rojec-
tion, as ina portico ; or when, + upon that

aoe SY

* This remark, ‘for very pbvions reasons, is nee “meant to
extend tothe upper part of covered bridges, ©

281

grand principle of umformity and succes-
sions they are arranged om a lime in one or
more rows, as in most of the ancient ten»
ples : but the usual form and construction
of a bridge, and the difference in the height
of its arches, excludes such arrangements
of columns. ‘Those at Blackfriar’s, from
their detached unconnected position, and
from their size being so disproportioned to
the great mass of the bridge, (a circum-
stance of no slight importance). appear to
be, what they really are,—bits,.of useless
fmery. Indeed, from every point, they
proclaim themselves to be merely ornamen-
tal; and in that, and other respects, they
put me in mind of certain human beings
that I have sometimes observed parading in
more solenin edifices ; -for these columns
appearing to haye no'business ‘where they
are, nor office to perform, and ‘being more
decorated than the other ‘parts, distract ‘the
attention and disturb the grandeur. and.so-
lemnity of the whole mass,

The character of a wooden bridge, is as
different from that of a stone ene, as the na-

*

282

ture of the one material is from that of the
other. Many of the wooden bridges in
Alpine scenes, with the supports irregularly
crossing each other, are universally admired
for their wild picturesque character, so well
suited to that of the scenery : and even
where. wooden bridges are executed with
great mechanical skill on a regular plan,
still a great degree of intricacy, though of
a less picturesque kind, must arise from the
necessary crossing of the timbers. Intricacy
is, therefore, one principal characteristic of
wooden ‘bridges, as solidity, and conse-
quently a certain degree of massiness, is
of stone bridges; for whatever is solidly built
of any hard material, however light the ge-
neral appearance, must be massy in parts,
when compared with that which is formed
of wood only, and where the different sup-
ports, (whether upright or slanting) together
with the pieces which ‘by intersecting tye
them together, are all visible. Painters,
therefore, when they have wished for that
species of intricacy, and for that peculiar
lightness of appearance, which arises from

283

the comparative lightness of the material,
and the small proportion of what is solid
to what is perforated, have made use of
wooden bridges only.

But there are likewise very singular and
striking effects, produced by a mixture of
wood and stone, of which painters have
equally availed themselves. It sometimes
happens, where there is a failure in one or
more arches ofa stone bridge, that a tempo-
rary junctionis made with timber, which, be-
ing found sufficiently strong, is suffered to re-
main. Soincongruous a mixture, most cer
tainly will not answer the purposes of gran-
deur, or of beauty, but, at the same time, no-
thing can be more picturesque; and if any
additional examples were wanting, to shew
the distinction of that character from the —
two others, nothing could be more con-
vincing than the result of such a mixture.
A remarkable instance of it I have seen in
prints and drawings of the bridge at Cha-
renton near Paris, which is a perfect model
of variety, mtricacy, and picturesque irre-.

gularity,

284

Sucha bridgo, however, can scarcely, be-
come an obyectof mitation,sthough ittmight
without impropriety be suffered to remain;
and the reason of this difference is very ob-
vious. Indolenee, or, economy, or a fond-
ness forwhat we have long been acquainted
with, may be admitted as excuses for allow-
ing any object to stand in its actual state ;
particularly where from time and accident
it had acquired a picturesque character;
but to imitate the incongruous parts which
had been added from necessity to a well
connected design, and make a new piece of
patch-work,—though it might prove that
the artist had some skill in copying,* would

* The following anecdote is a curious instance, how a
talent for exact imitation may be misapplied, In the course
of a very. long passage to China, the Chaplain’s cassock-had
been so often patched and mended, that it was nécessary
to Have anew one. It)was ;therefore seit;to. yield
Canton, that he might make.another by it. The Chir
are ‘famous .for the exactness of their imitations, “and
tailor gave a proof of it in the new cassock ; for he so aceue ©
rately copied every patch and darn of the old _one, that, ex-
cept by the freshness of the new stuff, it was, impossible to
tell one from the other,

por

shew but little taste or. Losec Sa in his
em ployer.

There are>other rninchthts, however, of
sténe and wood, which may suit the im-
prover no less than the painter, and which —
have ‘geherally a ipleasing, sometimes .a
grand effect: These are bridgés, where ithe
upper part, consisting of strait timbers with
little or no‘intricdcy,is supported hy square
massive stonepiers. Of tliesebridges Claude
was particularly’ fond,and most commonly
placed them at’some distance from the eye,
where the general plan of that part of the
picture was ‘nearly ‘ona level: but there is
one drawing in the Liber Veritatis,* where,
with the most striking effect, he has’ intro-
duced one’of them in the fore-ground over
a’récky river, that appearsto pass under 'it
towards ‘the country below ; in which ‘St.
Peter's déme is‘seen at a distance. It isa
composition ‘well worth studying ; ‘for it
shews, ‘in the most convincing manuer, the

* No. 67.

286

grandeur of massiness and of strait lines,
and also their powerful effect in throwing off
the distance. If any one could doubt it,
let him substitute the most picturesque Al-
pine bridge of wood only, with the most va-
ried intricacy of form, and he would imme-
diately feel how much the grandeur of the
whole scene would be destroyed.

It is by no means improbable, that Claude .
may have copied this bridge with little
alteration, from one that he had seen; for ,
in constructing bridges over rapid moun-
tainous torrents,’ the: builder is often
obliged to make the piers and supports
of a much more massive kind, than the
weight of the» woodwork requires, and
produces an effect of grandeur, where secu-
rity alone was thought of. At other times
in such situations, the builder is forced into
singular and picturesque forms and combi-
nations, into a mixture of irregular wood-
work and. masonry, with the equally irre-
gular supports furnished by the natural
rock ; and thus suggests ideas to the paiuter,

287

instead of receiving them from him. ‘There
is indeed noclassof buildings, among which
amore marked diversity of character is to
be found than that of bridges; yet at the
same time there is none, in which the ap-
proved regular models are so well suited to
various situations : the splendid mansions
which we admire in a city, are seldom in
character when placed in the midst of a
landscape ; but a bridge which adorns a
metropolis, does not misbecome a scene of
mere wood and water. |

Having now taken a view of the differ-
ent characters and styles of real buildings,
interspersed, however, with such illustra-
tions from those in pictures as I thought
might throw an occasional light on the sub-
ject, I will now more fully and distinctly
consider the use, which both in history and
landscape, some of the principal painters
of different schools and countries have
made of buildings, from the highest style
of architecture, to the simplest cottage—
irom those which are in their: freshest

. . BBB

and most perfect state, to those which time
thas most. defaced and:mutilated.

. sMany of the first great masters .of the
xevived art, Leonardo da Vinci, M. Ange-
lo, Raphael,,G. Romano, and ,others, were
architects as well.as painters ; and ' several
buildings were executed after their designs,
‘andunder their inspection. But I,am now
considering architecture as it appears in
pictures, and mixed with other objects ;
and.amoang these great artists Raphael is
the only one, who has left a numberof
historical compositions,.in which buildings
and architecture form so)principal.a part, as
may enable us to, form,a_judgment.ef the
‘result of the-whole. The.general charac-
ter of his architecture, like .that of ; his
figures, .is.a:sedate and. simple grandeur,
-equally- free from.superfluous ornament,
and from strongly marked contrasts : and
such is that of the painters of) the Roman
and Florentine schools taken in a, general
view,and with the exceptions and) modifica-
tions which in such views. mustoccur.,

\

ca

289

The character of the architecture in the
pictures of the Venetian masters, takenin the
same general manner, is a gay and splen-
did magnificence. Such characters will of
course vary ineach school according to the
disposition of the particular master; and I
think in most instances it may be observed,
that the style of the buildings is in unison
with that of the figures. ‘Titian, in whose
figures and general conceptions, there is of-
ten a simplicity unknown to his two coun-
trymen and contemporaries, Paul Veronese
and ‘Tintoret, has the same comparative
simplicity in his architecture; still, however,
it is of a very different cast from that of
either of the schools I have mentioned.
‘Tintoret is lessdignified in his pictures than
either Titian or Paul ; and, as far as I have
had an opportunity of observing it, the
same may he said of his architecture. No
painter whose subjects were serious, ever
placed the human figure so much, and so
frequently out of the perpendicular : it is
a liberty which cannot well be taken with

VOL. II. C

290

buildin gs,except in painting an earthquake,
a subject which in all respects would have
suited his capricious invention, and the fa-
cility of his execution*. |
But of bs the painters who have flou-

SABASF
.

* There is a drawing of his, that was in Sir Joshua Rey-
nolds’s colléction, and is now in my possession, where the
subject has enabled him to indulge his favourite propensity
ona building. He has represented the dream of a Pope,
who is lying ina stately bed adorned with a canopy, and
supported by embleniatical figures: his attendants are sleep-
ing, in the room, in various and singular attitudes. Over the
door, a Cathedral church seemsto be tumbling towards the
Pope, while a Monk on his knees, with his hand stretched
‘towards the portico, appears in the act of supporting it.
Rays of light issue from the church, and illuminating the
face of the Pope, glance upon the different ornaments of
the bed, and on the sleeping attendants. ‘Iwo other figures
are at the door, the one lifting up the curtain of it, and dis-
covering part of an inner room, in which is a strong effect
of sunshine; the other advancing into the bedchamber.
The whole composition, in point of singularity and_rich-
ness of invention, of no less singular. effects of light and
shadow, of the style and disposition of the ornaments of
the bed, the tables, and of all the furniture, is in the highest
degree characteristic of that wild aud capricious, but truly
eriginal ‘painter.

201

rished since the revival of the art, none
have equalled Paul Veronese, in the festive.
pomp, and the theatrical splendour and
magnificence of his buildings. ‘lhe profusion:
of columns, open galleries, ballustrades and
balconies ; of buildings:seen across and. be
hind other buildings, ‘with various; and sin-
gular ettects of lineal andaerial perspective,
admirably accords) with::the profusion! of
figures with which he has peopled. them,
with the studied» céntrasts of their groups
and attitudes, : and: ithe: richness:»of the
dresses: and as his subjects were frequently
festivals and banquets, to these, may. often
be added; the rich, tmts and ornaments of
gold and.silyer plate; of urns, cups, vases,
&e., ‘Lhe immense scale of his pictures, the
facility, with, which.the whole|is conducted,
and. the extreme clearness and, brilliancy, of .
that whole: have so,captivated his.country-
mei; that his works.are more celebrated at
Venice, ‘than. even those of. his, more exalted
rival, Titdamss so ofy04 fury): osistorts out) ao

Uz

999

In Paul Veronese, more than perhaps in
any other painter of his class, we find those
striking effects of perspective, those groups
and clusters of buildings receding from the
eye in various directions, and all those
splendid artifices which may be called the
picturesque of regular and entire architec-
ture, in contradistinction to that of irre-
gular buildings and ruins. It is obvious
that there are but few subjects where a his-
tory painter could introduce ruins with pro-
priety, especially as principal objects ; being
therefore 'in some degree precluded from
buildings in their most: picturesque state,
(that is, where the variety of forms, tints,
and effects, are most sudden and _ striking,).
those painters who were fond of such varie-
ties, and of all that is termed picturesque,
have sought for them by means not incom-
patible with what is due to the dignity
and propriety of the historical style. This
will clearly appear to any person who com-_
pares the architectural hack-grounds ofsuch

298

artists, with those of other masters who stu-
died the higher parts of the art ; as for in-
stance, the back-grounds of P. Veronese
and Rubens, with those of Raphael and
Poussin. In the works of the two first
mentioned painters, those artifices, and that
picturesque disposition I mentioned, appear
in all their brilliancy ; and are perfectly
suited to what has very properly been
termed the ornamental style, as opposed
to the severer character of the Roman and
Florentine schools.

I have now stated what appear to me to
~ be the distinct characters of those buildings,
which the painters of the schools I have
mentioned have introduced into their pic-
tures. I could wish to point out some of
the principles on which the Venetians, and
especially P. Veronese proceeded, and by
means of which they have produced that
remarkable lightness, airiness, and splen-
dour, so strikingly displayed in their build-
ings. Without presuming that I shall
be able to do it satisfactorily, I will men-

294

tion what has occurred to me on the eb:
ject.
I went to Venice Sake Rome, full, of
Raphael and the Vatican, and of the works
of many great masters of the other schools,
that are collected in that capital of the
arts, In most of them, buildings and ar-
chitecture of the highest kind are intro-
duced ; yet those of the Venetian painters,
had a new.and a very forcible effect upon
my mind, and, as far.as I can recollect, I
passed the same judgment upon them that
{ do now: but I was not then in the same
habit of reflecting on my own ideas and
impressions. If then the architecture of
that school has a striking effect, and one of
a different. kind from, those of the other
schools, it.is worth while. to endeavour, at
least, to investigate the principles on which
they proceeded; and. to observe whether
those principles are constant and uniform.
Such inquiries will not be useful to, the
painter only, but in many cases to the ar-
chitect ; for whatever in any way relates

a

to. the effect, of buildings, cannot be. to-
tally foreign to his. art ; and as there are
scenes Which call for a style of architec-
ture, similar to that of the Roman or
Florentine,,.so there are others, ‘to which
that of the V enetian school is no less a-
dapted. 7 e ates!
I have already. considered the general
causes of grandeur and beauty. . As mas-
siveness and solidity belong to the former,
so lightness, and detached parts no less be-
long to the latter ; what is light, in both
senses.of the word, accords with ideas of
beauty, and particularly with those of gaiety,
and splendour. We often say of a building
that it is light andairy, when the air appears
to have a free passage round the parts of it;
an.idea. which peculiarly ,applies to open
colonnades. All these effects are increased,
if the.colour of the stone also, be light and
clear. | pals tak 7
_.If we attend to the practice of the Vene-
tian painters in these, points, we shall find
how fond they were of introducing open
porticos, and colonnades, and, of displaying

296

near the eye, the full effect of their light and
airy character. Paul Veronese, who indeed
never scrupled to sacrifice propriety to ef-
fect, has placed the Magdalen washing our
‘Saviour's feet, under a magnificent portico,
decorated with every rich and splendid or-
nament. The view is through the columns
to the open air, not towards the interior
building; and this I think is a circumstance
to which he was generally attentive: he
likewise took care so to dispose his columns
that a large portion of the back-ground, and
particularly of the sky, should be seen
through them. ‘The effect of this disposi-
tion will best be perceived, by comparing
it with that of Raphael in a scene of the
same kind. In the cartoon, which repre-
sents the apostle curing the lame man at
the beautiful gate of the temple, he likewise
has placed the figures in a portico ; and in
allusion to the name of the gate, has given
to the architecture a degree of richness and
decoration, beyond that which appears in
any of his other compositions. ‘The columns
are twisted; their shafts are enriched with

297

firures of boys amidst festoons of foliage ;
but they are very close to each other, the
view is inwards towards the temple, and
only a very small portion of-the sky is seen.
This alone would be sufficient to occasion
the striking difference between these two
compositions, in point of airiness and light-—
ness of effect : but there is another cause,
distinct from architecture, which clogs that
of Raphael; and which deserves to be men-
tioned, as itshews the different character
and aim of the two painters. The figures
in this cartoon are of their natural size, while
the columns are on somuch smaller a scale,
that the bodies of the figures which are be-
yond them, and therefore further removed
from the eye, are as large, or larger, than
their shafts: and consequently fill up the
space, which was already sufficiently crowd-
ed. Itmay bealleged, that a great history
painter, whose mind was occupied with the
character and expression of his figures, is
justified in having sacrificed propriety, and
even probability, in an inferior branch of
the art; and the judgment of Sir Joshua

298

Reynolds, on the small proportion of the
boats in the picture of the miraculous
draught of fishes, may ,be brought m de-
fence of, a similar breach of propricty in
architecture: still I think that the. neces-
sity, or at least the expediency of the sa-
crifice (as. perhaps. in the circumstance of
the boats) ought, to be manifest. But here
the case is different ; for the architecture
is a:very principal part oi “the picture, at:
tracts the eye, from its ornaments, and ap-
pears to have been very much studied. : it
seems to. me, however, not only to want
airiness, but grandeur ; and even in that last
point, the Roman. school may sometimes
condescend to take lessons: from the Vene-
tian, though in general so much superior | to
itin dignity. I have in my mind a compo-
sition of ‘Titian, respecting the Virgin and
child placed on an altar in a sort_of por-
tico, with other figures on the steps of the
altar :.,only two palin are seen, the tops
of which are supposed to be out of the pic-
ture. The manner in which this architec-
ture is introduced, produces a very grand,

209

and at the same time a-very picturesque
effect. ; _ these columns, from being; brought
near the eye, and i in... their full proportion,
present an imposing mass ; and as their ba-
ses are placed on different levels, their sym-
metry, though not doubtful, is not obyious:

the.twe columns. are. sufficient to, impress
the idea of . “magnificent, architecture ; yet
from the circumstance of there being only
two, room enough is given, for the figures,
and space enough for that appearance of
air, which the, Venetian painters were: so
desirous of producing. * Ttowill hardly be
suspected, after what L. have said of Van-
brugh’s buildings; that in my opinion a
light, airy, and detached style, ought to be
the sole aim either of painters or architects ;

and that Raphael would have acted with
more judgment, if instead of the noble, but
solemn architecture, and, correspondentli ght

* This ts the picture, of witch? Sir Joshua Reynolds, in
his Tour through Flanders (page 45,) has so admirably de-
scribed the character and effect; contrasting them with
those of a picture of Rubens. _ Unfortunately he has.made
no observations on the architecture in either of them, |

300

and shadow, which he had made choice of
in the school of Athens, the miracle of Bol-
senna, and the Heliodorus, he had displayed
in those pictures the blaze of daylight, and
all the splendid decorations of P. Veronese.
All T aimed at was to point out, as far as I
am capable, whatare the principles of light-
ness, airmess, and splendour in buildings,
and in what instances they may be com-
patible with grandeur.

The Caracci, in their historical paintings,
endeavoured to blend all that in various
ways was most worthy of imitation, in the
great masters who preceded them. Among
so many men of original conceptions, and
whose originality, instead of being checked
or perverted, was fostered and guided by
the liberal method of instruction in that
famous academy, much variety of charac-
ter, inevery part of their productions, will
occur; but the general style of their archi-
tecture in their historical pictures, appears
to have been, like that of their figures, a
medium between the more simple and se-
vere dignity of the Roman and Ficrentine

SOL

schools, and the splendid richness of the
Venetian ; the striking effects of which last
school, in every way, they studied with great
assiduity. An example of that middle style
may be given from a picture of one of the
greatest among the Bolognese masters—
the Martyrdom of St. Andrew, by Domeni-
chino, which is etched by Carlo Maratti.
There is an open range of columns, and the
view is through them towards the outward
air, which gives great lightness to the whole :
but they are in one strait line, and directly
opposite to the eye; and on the left hand of
the picture, the wall of the inclosed place in
which thescene is represented, is quite plain.
By means of these circumstances, he has
given to the general composition that de-
gree of repose and simplicity, which, m
his judgment, was best suited to the oc-
- casion.

Pietro da Cortona has been reproached,
and not without reason, as the corrupter of
the Italian taste in painting : corrupters in
every way, have generally some attractions
by meays of which they are enabled io se-

302

duce, and those he by no means wanted.
He is another example of the union of the
two professions ; for he was an architect of
great reputation, and: some churches im
Rome built after his designs, are highly:
esteemed. - The architecture im his pictures
is enriched with a greater. profusion..of or-
naments than that of almost any other
master, but he has compensated that pro-
fusion (as far as it canbe compensated). by:
a skilful arrangement of the parts, and ano
less’ judicious: combination of the: whole.
The’ qualities which he possessed, though
they do not accord with the higher style of
painting, or with the purest taste, are not to
be despised, when so eminently. displayed;
‘and the effect of richness; and grouping,
cannot be better studied than: in-his) works,

A striking contrast to ‘his style im) every
branch of the art, may be taken from a nas
tion and a school, generally thought to Have
a strong tincture of his merits, and his de-
fects: itis hardly necessary:to namei N:
Poussin. There is no-master, whose works,
bothin history and landscape; afford somapy

303

studies for the higher. styles of buildings,
and for the use which may be made of them ;
for none ever more diligently studied | their
effect and character, as well as the charac-
ter of the objects which they were to accom-
pany. That severe and learned simplicity,
which in his figures he had acquired by his
studious imitation of the ancients, he was
not likely to abandon in the other branches
of the art: and as no painter was more sen-
sible of the grandeur arising fromstrait lines,
of those as might naturally be expected, he
has made ‘frequent. use in architecture, to
which they are so congenial. These prin-
ciples are every where exemplified in his
works, in which we never see the profuse
ornaments. of Pietro da Cortona, or the
splendid incongruities of Paul Veronese ;
and that not for want of skill in the ‘execu-
tion : for his touch, when he chose to intro-
duce vases, foliage, masks, or other decora-
tions, was not inferior to that of ‘either of
those masters. His Sacraments are-models
of thit plainness and sobriety’ of arehitec-
ture «which 'the-subjects required: ofthat

504

just medium, between a strict adherence to
historical probability (which, in pictures, as
in theatrical representations, must often be
dispensed with) and a licentious abuse of
an acknowledged privilege of poets and
painters. In one of them, he has repre-
sented the same subject, which P. Veronese
has treated in a picture already mentioned,
thatofthe Magdalenanointing the feetofour
Saviour. Thecharacter, and the expression of
the figures, are foreign to my present sub-
ject. Thescene of the action, is a spacious
room enclosed on every side: the orna-
ments few and simple: in the centre, a re-
cess with Ionic columns before it, and two
niches on each side. In point of lightness
and effect, of air and brilliancy, there cam
be no comparison between this picture and
that of P. Veronese at Genoa; but the one
is addressed to the understanding through
the sight ; the other to the sight only : and
who can doubt which has attained the
noblest end ?

Poussin is more generally known and ad-
mired than any of his countrymen; but

S05

many excellent examples of buildings con-
nected with scenery, may be found in the
works of the principal French painters. In
that school, however, there is such a diver-
gsity of styles, from extreme simplicity and
» severity, to as great licentiousness, that no
general character of their buildings can well
be given: but from that diversity much in-
struction may be drawn, both as to what
may be followed, and what should be avoid-
ed. The compositions of Le Sueur, Le
Brun, not to mention others of acknow-
ledged merit, are in high estimation; and
they, like other historical painters, did not
neglect architecture.
- The Flemish school owes its principal xe-
putation in history painting to its illustrious
head, Rubens; for Vandyke, whose histori-
eal pictures gave such just cause of jealousy
to his master, forsook that higher branch of
the art, and is more generally known as a
portrait painter. ‘There are others indeed,
such as Diepenbeck, Quellinus, de Vos,&c.
who painted dignified subjects ona large
scale, and whose works have no shght de-

VOL. II. | x :

306

gree of merit, particularly in the ornamen-
tal part; but even there, where they most
excelled, the interval is very great between
them and Rubens. His architecture, like
that of Paul Veronese, from whom he bor-
rowed many of his ideas of magnificence and
decoration, is in a high degree splendid ; but
has less of that display of architectural sym-
metry, and of that lightness and elegance,
which are so striking in the Venetian : for
_the peculiar heaviness of the Flemish taste,
so strongly marked in his figures, seems: in
particular instances, to have affected the
character of his buildings. ‘There isa well-
known print after him, the title of which
(Le Jardin de L’Amour) expresses the em-
ployment of the figures,and the place where
they are assembled ; and certainly, if evera
light and airy style of architecture be pro-
per, it must be peculiarly so, where the sub-
ject of the picture is gallantry, and. the
scene agarden. Had Parmeggiano painted
a subject of this kind, as his figures would
have been Sylph-like, he would have proba-
bly made any building which he might have

807

chosen to introduce, of the same aerial kind.
Rubens, in his garden, has represented the
entrance to a sort of pavilion ; the general
character of which, and all the particular
parts and ornaments are so massive, that if a
palace of the Gnomes were to be repre-
sented, this might serve for its portal.

But although in this and other instances
his buildimgs may justly be charged with
heaviness, especially if compared with those
of his model, Paul Veronese, yet he com-
pensated that occasional defect, by great
and frequent beauties: for no master has
combined such magical effects of light and
shadow, with the richness and splendour of
regular architecture ; none has shewn such
art in disguising that regularity for the sake
of picturesque disposition, without injuring
the well-connected grandeur of the whole:
and this might be exemplified from a num-
ber of his works.

From Rubens also, more than frie any
other painter, an architectural \ gardener
might take examples of the mixture of re-

gular architecture with vegetation: as, for
x2

308

instance, of pilasters joined with trellisses,
or of columns encircled by climbing plants.
Sometimes on such occasions, he has made
use of twisted columns, and, I think, with
peculiarly good effect ; for the waving lines
of the columns accord with those of the
plants, which in return soften the defect
of such columns, while they coimcide with
their undulating shape.

In all that has lately been said, I teil
considered architecture and buildings as
they appear in historical pictures :.I shall
now proceed to consider the character of
buildings, and the manner in which they are
introduced and accompanied, where the
landscape is principal ; or, if not strictly
so, where it occupies a considerable and
striking part of the picture. . But little of
this kind is, to be found, in the. great
masters of ‘the Roman and Florentine
schools ; none. of whom, I imagine, .ever
painted what would properly be called a
landscape. Raphael in his back-grounds
has seldom completely overcome the dry-
ness of his early manner; nor could he in

309

that branch of the art, enlarge his concep-
tions from the works of his great inspirer
M. Angelo: but as no one ever so rapidly
distinguished and appropriated what was
most excellent in other artists, we may be
sure from what he has done in some of his
back-grounds, of the progress he would have
made had his life been protracted, and had
he seen a style in landscape not less eleva-
ted, than hisown and M. Angelo’s in figures.
That branch of the art, in which the mo-
derns have the best claim to superiority
over the ancients, was hrought to its high-
est perfection in point of grandeur of style,
and richness of colouring, by the artists of
the Venetian school, and more particularly
by their chief boast, the divine ‘Titian; upon
whose works all the great landscape painters
may be said to have formed themselves.
As far as Ican recollect, Titian has seldom,
if ever,introduced any finished pieces of ar-
chitecture into the near parts of his land-
scapes ; nor indeed any buildings as princi-
pal objects occupying a’ large part ‘of’ the
picture, such as we see in the landscapes of

310

some other painters ; though in his histo-
rical pictures (to use a very common though
improper term of distinction) columns,
arches, balustrades, &c. serve as magnifi-
cent frames to those back-grounds, which
have been models to all succeeding pain-
ters. Many of the buildings in his land-
scapes are of a peculiar form with longslant-
ing roofs, of which I am persuaded seve-
ralexamples might still be found near his
native city of Cador, and other parts of the
Venetian terra firma ; for I have observed
in the more modern Venetian pictures,

many forms of buildings of the same cha- —
racter with those of Titian, which yet could
not have been copied from him, having
been painted from nature. Slanting roofs
are certainly very far from contributing to
grandeur, one great characteristic of 'Titian’s
landscapes ; but as every painter at first
copies the nature he sees around him, he
will have a partiality for the buildings to
which his eye had been early accustomed,
though they should not be exactly those
which his maturer judgment would have

S11

preferred without such a bias ; and Titian
might feel that they gave to his pictures an
air of truth and of naturalness, both in his
own eyes, and those of his countrymen. He
has taken care, however, as might well be
expected from such an artist, to place other
buildings among them of such a degree
of dignity, as to relieve, but not

“< To shame the meanness of his humble sheds.”

Two instances occur to me, which I am in-
clined to mention with some detail, on
more than one account. In each of the
‘ compositions there are a number of com-
mon looking houses with sloping roofs
on the side of a small eminence ; on the
top stands a massy, but unornamented
tower, which overlooks them, and crowns
the whole: these are the principal cir-
cumstances common to both the groups,
in which, however, there are others, such as
open arches, a gateway towards the centre
of one of the towers, &c. that give variety
to each composition. As the buildings in
those two groups are of various kinds, com-

312

mon dwellings and outhouses, as well as
towers and turrets ; some with slanting,
others with flat roofs—the principle upon
which they are grouped and blended toge-
ther, so as to produce a grand whole, in
spite of the meanness of many of the par-
ticulars, well deserves attention.

Whenever any mass-of buildings is to
be erected, whether a house with its offices,
or a farm with its outbuildings, an opportu-
nity presents itself, of producing what will
bé a striking feature from many points: the
difference of expense in the mere outward
form, where there are no ornaments, is tri-
fling, when compared with the difference of
effect. Those who are desirous of improy-
ing the landscapes of their place by means
of buildings, ought surely to study what the
great masters of landscape have done in
various situations, and in various styles :
how they sometimes softened and disguised
the too manifest symmetry of regular ar-
chitecture, by blending it with other ob-
jects of a different but notdegrading kind ;
and at other times, ennobled meaner build-

318

ings by the help of some imposing mass,
that fixed upon itself the principal atten-
tion. This last method is capable of fre-
quent application: as for instance, when a
small hamlet or some farm buildings are in
an interesting situation, where the person
from whose place they are in view, would
wish for something more attractive. It is
true, that a rich person to whom the whole
belonged, might pull them all down, and
place in their room a tower, a temple, or
some ornamental building: but, besides
that there is something unpleasant, in de-
$troying for the sake of mere ornament the
marks of industry and habitation, such
buildings of parade have too frequently a
staring, unconnected, ostentatious appear-
ance. Should he, however, choose to pre-
serve the look of a farm or hamlet, but wish,
at the same tiie, to improve the general
mass, any building of a good form, rising
higher than the rest from amidst them,
would probably answer that purpose, and
serve at ofice both to vary and unite the

314

whole group; especially with the assistance
of a few trees judiciously placed. There
may be cases also, where.an improver, with
great property all round, may have only a
small piece of ground in such a hamlet,
and be unable to purchase any more: a
building of the character I mentioned,
might do all that a lover of painting would
wish for, and give him a sort of property
in the whole ; and I know that manner of
appropriating objects to be the source of
much pleasure. ,

The buildings in the landscapes of the
Bolognese painters have many excellen-
cies highly proper to be studied, but which
it would be tedious to discriminate. The
style of landscape in that school was in
a great degree formed upon that of the
Venetians, and especially of Titian ; and
‘his manner of forming groups of buildings
which has just been described, may, I think,
be traced in a number of their works : it is
probable indeed that the two landscapes on
which those groups make so principal a fi-
gure, were favourite compositions ; as they

S515

are both of them etched by Giar. Francisco
Grimaldi, the famous landscape painter of
the Carach school.

In the landscapes of Nicholas, Poussin,
there are more regular finished pieces of ar-
chitecture, and those made principal ob-
jects, than in almost any other painter.
Claude is an exception,and he brought them
still nearer to the eye: the style of their ar-
chitecture is, however, as different, as that of
their landscapes; it is the difference of male,
from female beauty. In Poussin’s build-
ings, the symmetry is often so perfectly un-
disguised, from their being placed directly
opposite the eye without any effect of per-
spective, that many persons, if they were
not checked by such authority, would pro-
nounce, that no painter could make use of
them in that manner : yet this great artist,
who so well knew the value of straight lines,
and of uniformity, has shewn with how
much skill he could diversify the outlines of
his buildings, when he saw occasion for it;
and exchange the grandeur of simplicity,
for that of splendid variety... One instance

316

of this I shall now give, as it will illustrate
and confirm what I have advanced on the
subject of slanting roofs, and of their want
of grandeur; and as it will likewise shew,
what, in this great painter's idea, the gene-
ral appearance of a magnificent city ought
to be. The picture I allude to, was in the
Orleans collection ; the subject, the infant
Moses exposed on the Nile. And here,
though I wish to confine myself strictly to
the design of my Essay, I cannot help say-
ing a few words on the expression of the
figures ; for more true, more varied and
dignified expressions, are scarcely to be
found in the whole compass of the art. The
mother is represented, hardly enduring to
push from the shore the little basket that
holds her child: her face is turned from it :
and in that face, all a mother’s agony is
painted. The father is slowly walking from
the scene; a smothered grief in his counte-
nance: but his hand, which clasps his dra-
pery,seems more strongly to betray his feel-
ings. Close behind, and clinging to him,
is the elder boy : his head is turned round,

$17

and he looks back,as he walks, at the action
of his mother, with an expression of anx-
jous concern, terror, and uncertainty. So
superior is the interest arisiftyfrom the hu-
man figure, and the expression of human
passions, that when T first saw this composi-
tion, f hardly thought of the landscape, ad-
mirable as it is in every part. The back-
ground, on account of which I have men-
tioned this noble work,is one of the richest
I ever saw ; it is the view of a magnificent
city, mixed with trees, and backed with
mountains : the principal buildings near
enough to be distinct; distant enough to
have the whole taken in at one view. The
summits of them are most studiously vari-
ed, with domes, pyramids, obelisks, towers
of different heights and shapes; but, among
them all, not more than éne sloping roof of
the straight kind, strikes the eye within the
town itself : without the walls indeed (per+
haps as a foil, anda contrast to so much
magnificence) he has placed a cottage with
a-simple sloping roof ; still, however, vari-

318

ed bya projecting shed in front,and another
on the side. Paul Veronese, also, in a pie-
ture of the finding of Moses, has given us
his idea of a city, which perfectly accords
with that of Poussin in the splendour and
variety of the summits, and the absence
of sloping roofs; and Claude, in several
of his pictures, has on similar occasions
proceeded on the same principles.

As these great painters, in compositions
where they clearly meant to express a mag-
nificent assemblage of buildings, have stu-
diously varied the outlines of their summits;
and, except in circular roofs such as domes,
where their effect is of a distinct character,
have avoided sloping roofs—it is a strong ar-
gument for pursuing the same method in
every assemblage of buildings, whether it
be a city with its numerous edifices, or a.
mansion with its appendages : in short,
wherever the whole is intended to be mag-
nificent in itself, and to adorn from differ-
ent points the surrounding scenery. )

The buildings in some of the landscapes

_

319

of Sebastian Bourdon, particularly deserve
to be cited, as very striking specimens of the
union of grandeurand picturesqueness. One
picture, in which this union is most hap-
pily exemplified, 1 have had frequent op-
portunities of examining, in the houses of
its late, and present possessors: and,what is
no slight advantage, have often heard their
remarks upon it.* The subject is, the ark
of the covenant on its progress, when it was
recovered from the Philistines. It is repre-
sented in its passage over a bridge, on the
opposite side of which are several figures ;
some of whose attitudes and countenances
express profound awe and devotion, and

* It was left as a legacy to Sir George Beaumont by
Sir Joshua Reynolds; who thought that the grandeur of
its style (which he always spoke of with admiration) was
of so peculiar a cast, and so far removed from obvious
common nature, as to be incapable of being truly relished,
except by minds of strong original feeling, and long accus-
tomed to contemplate the higher excellencies of the art.
Such a legacy from such a man, is a panegyric '

Distinct and clear
As any muse’s tongue could speak.

320

others the most fervent enthusiasm. The
bridge is built over a rapid river ; at some
distance higher up, stands a mill,in the ma-
nagement of which the painter has shewn
the greatest skill and judgment. A mill,
such as those which Ruysdal, Waterlo, or
Hobbima painted (excellent as they are in
their kind,) would, on account of their
broken forms, and strongly marked imtri-
cacy and irregularity, be ill suited to the
solemnity of such a subject. Bourdon has,
therefore, made the general form of the
building of a more massive and uniform
kind, though sufficiently varied ; and at the —
same time that he has, with great truth,
marked the intricacy of the wheels, and the
effect of water in motion, he has kept the
whole in such a mass of broad shadow, that
nothing presses upon the eye, or interferes
with the style of the picture : yet, on im-
spection, all the circumstances of intricacy,
_ and motion, amuse the mind ; and (whatis
the true character and use of the pictu-
resque in such cases) relieve it from the

321

monotony of mere breadth, massiveness,
and uniformity.*

In the works of many of the Dutch and
Flemish masters, mills are among the truest
specimens of the picturesque, unmixed with
grandeur, or beauty; and are therefore
perfect in their kind. But there are other
painters who have overshot the mark; and
as I have taken one instance of the most ju-
dicious conduct from a French master, I
will mention another of an opposite kind,
from the same school. There is a picture
of a millat Beauvais, the print from which
is common, by Boucher, in which he seems
to have collected together all the singu-
larly abrupt and irregular forms that he
had ever seen, in order to be superlatively

* There is a passage in some Essays on Painting by
Diderot, which very aptly illustrates this idea of the use and
the limits of the picturesque, in the higher style of the art.
“ Mais revenons 4 lordonnance et J’ensemble des persons
nages. On peut, on doit en sacrifier un peu au technique,
Jusqu’ou ? je n’en sgai rien, Mais je ne veux pas qu’il en
cofite la moindre chose a expression, a leffet du sujet
Touche moi, etome moi, dechire moi, fais moi tressaillir,
pleurer, fremir, m’indigner d’abord, tu recreeras mes yeux
apres si tu penx.”

VOL. fi. x

322

picturesque ; and in the same proportion
that the wheels and the intricate parts of
the mill are less distinct in the picture of
Bourdon, than they appear in the land-
scapes of Ruysdale or Hobbima, they are
more so in that of Boucher: the picture
of the former, is a model of the use which
may be made of the qualities of the. pictu-
resque; that of the latter, one of the best ex-
amples I know of their abuse.

Reubensin his landscapes, appears to have
paid as little attention to the shapes. of his
buildings,as to those of his trees; having of-.
ten placed the most vulgar forms of both,
in his grandest compositions. The great
points at which he aimed, and in which he
so admirably succeeded, were ‘colour, and
effect; and where they take possession of
a painter’s mind, he can seldom prevail up-
on himself to reject, hardly to alter the
forms of those objects, on which such cap-
tivating qualities are eminently displayed.

I have hitherto dwelt almost entirely on
the landscapes of those masters, who were
also eminent in the higher parts of the art,
and have only touched occasionally on the

328

painters of the Dutch school: I shall now
speak more fully of that school, in which,
after the example of Sir Joshua Reynolds, I
mean to include those of the Flemish masters
who painted similarsubjects. Inthe pictures
of the Dutch masters few instances of archi-
tectural beauty or grandeur occur, yet it
is certain that many of the buildings which
those masters have represented, though
void of those two qualities, attract our at-
tention in a high degree by means of others
which I have assigned to the picturesque.
It may, perhaps, be thought, that the plea-
sure arises solely from the exact imitation
of familiar objects, and that we again trans-
fer to the objects themselves, the pleasure
acquired from that imitation: this is a
point on which some further discussion will
by no means be useless in the present in-
quiry ; and | am the more inclined to en-
ter upon it,as Mr. Burke has but slightly
touched upon it in his Essay on the Sub-
lime and Beautiful.

He there proposes a rule, which, he ob-

serves, “‘ may inform us with a good degree
¥ 2

324

of certainty, when we are to attribute the
power of the art to imitation, or to our plea-
sure in the skill of the imitator merely ; and
when to sympathy, or some other cause in
conjunction with it. When the object re-
presented in poetry or painting is such as
we could have no desire of seeing in the
reality, then I may besure that its power m
poetry or painting is owing to the power of
imitation, and to no cause. operating in the
thing itself. So itis with most of the pieces
which the painters call still-life: in these a
cottage, a dunghill, the meanest and most
ordinary utensils of the kitchen, are capa-
ble of giving us pleasure.’*

This certainly does appear a very natu-
ral and just criterion; yet still in some de-
gree it implies an indifference with regard
to the selection and arrangement of such
objects, and seems to confine the whole
scope of the painter’s exertions, and the efs
fect they have on the spectator, within a
very narrow limit—that of mere imitation,
I am persuaded, however, that many of the

'* Essay on the Sublime and Beautiful, Part Ist, p. 81,
sec. 16.

325

Dutch masters have shewn as much choice
and selection, with respect to those circum-
stances which struck them in mills, cotta-
ges, insides of kitchens, &c. as the higher
Italian painters have displayed, in the ar-
rangement of more dignified objects, It is
true, they did not seek for elegance or gran-
deur ; but they were painters, and as such,
they could not help considering the dispo-
sition andcharacter of such forms, and feel-
ing strong motives of preference. The best
succedaneums for elegance and grandeur,
are variety and intricacy, and to these two
qualities, many of the Dutch painters have
paid the highest attention. There cannot
be a more thorough boor than Ostade, and
it might be concluded from the monsters he
has-painted by way of human figures, that
he, never thought of form im any objects;
but let. any. one carefully examine,—not
merely his pictures, (for in them the excel-
lence of his colouring might seduce the
judgment) but the prints from them, and
his etchings: they will then see how, in the
insides of kitchens, hé has selected every.
circumstance that can vary the forms, and

326

give intricacy to their disposition, without
injuring the unity of the whole. The dif-
ferent degrees of fore-shortening, in the
rafters, in the half-opened doors and case-
ments ; the winding staircases seen only in
part ; chairs, tables, cradles, baskets, &c. all
serve to vary the perspective, and form the
most artful, yet the most natural groups :
‘and the pots, pans, kettles, and all the va~
rious utensils, are distributed with the same
intention.

The outsides of his cottages are no less
distinguished for their variety and intricacy.
Their outline against the sky, is generally
composed of forms of unequal heights,
thrown into many different degrees of per-
spective ; the sides are varied by projecting
windows ‘and’ doors, by sheds supported’ by
brackets, with flower-pots on them ; by the
light, airy, and detached appearance’ ‘of
cages hung ‘out from the wall ; by porches
and trellices of various constructions, often
covered with vine or ivy: these, and manly
other picturesque objects, are so happily
grouped with each other and with trees, that

327

the bare outline would prove how much
the eye may be pleased, and what skill may
be shewn in the playful variety ‘and intri-
eacy of buildings:and their appendages,
where grace, elegance,and grandeur, are un-
thought of. But then, when it is considered,
that this play and variety of outline, how-
ever pleasing, are not so much to be valued
on'their own account, as from being pro-
ductive of whatthese painters most excelled
in, variety and effect of light and shadow ;
that to these must be added their other
great excellence, the management of co-
lours; and that this infinite diversity of
forms, colours, lights and shadows, must be
so arranged, as to’ produce one whole in
composition, and effect—it will shew, that
it is not from mere imitation, but from great.
judgment in selecting and combining, as
well as in executing, that our pleasure
arises. ‘The same principles of light and
shadow, the same attention to the effects of
variety and intricacy, which are so strongly
displayed in the pictures of Ostade, may be’
traced even in those .of Claude «Lorraine ;

1

828

though in him the character of beauty infi-
nitely prevails, and that of picturesqueness
is only subordinate.

There can hardly be a stronger contrast
than between a picture of Claude, and one
of Ostade ; but the contrast arises from the
countries which they inhabited. Claude
had constantly before his eyes, the most
striking specimens of beauty, grandeur, and
magnificence, both in art and nature ; but
it is by his skilful management of these ma-
terials, which lay open to a number of other
artists, that he raised himself, though a mere
landseape painter, almost toa level with
history painters. Nothing can be more di-
reetly opposite than the character of his and
of Ostade’s buildings ; yet there is no shight
resemblance in thei manner of considering:
the effect of buildings in general,and in the
use they made of those circumstances, which
give most variety of outline, of tint, and
of light and shadow, without injuring the
harmony and connection of the whole. The
porches and posts of the one, answer those
purposes as effectually, as the portieos and

329

columns of the other ; projecting roofs,
sheds with brackets, and rails, have in an-
other style, the effect of cornices and ha-
lustrades: the vulgar flower-pots of Ostade,
take the forms of urns and vases in Claude:
his winding staircase, of magnificent flights
of. steps ; it is the fable of Baucis and
Philemon. |
Architecture is the divinity, that raises the
porches of cottages and the rude posts that
support them, into porticos and colonnades ;
but while it refines and ennobles, it neces-
sarily takes off from that quickly-changing
variety and intricacy of form, and that cor-
respondent light and shadow, which are so
striking in picturesque buildings,and which
constitute and prove their distinctcharacter.
Such, indeed, must always be the effect of
high polish and refinement, however judi-
cious ; and the same analogy prevails in
language, in manners, in every thing with
which the human mind is conversant. The
pleasure which we receive from beauty and
grandeur of character, is more refined aud
exalted : still however there is a peculiar

530

relish, which arises from many rude, and
even mean but strongly marked pictu-
resque circumstances ; and that peculiar
relish, as it does arise from those circum-
stances, cannot exist, or cannot be equally
powerful, where they are changed for others
of a more noble,or a more beautiful, but of
a different character. Nor let it be ima-
gined, that such a union of them as is dis-
played in the buildings of some of the’
Dutch masters is common: every ‘old cot-'
tage will no more make a good: Ostade;:
than every fine piece of architecture or ‘an-’
cient ruin ma beautiful country, will make’
a good Claude ; and‘he who has been used"
to look at objects with'a painter's “eye, will:
be little less surprised (Ido not’ say pleas~!
ed) at finding a. perfect Ostade in a
than a perfect Claude. | a
- Notwithstanding the great delight ‘witioh
Ostade seems to have taken in representing»
all the picturesque circumstances of build-
ings, there is one ‘painter who has‘ sought.
after theirvarieties with still greater passion.’
Many of my readers will be surprised when’

331

Iname Wovermans. We have been used
to think of him chiefly as a painter of ani-
mals, and particularly horses, in which line
he so eminently excelled ; and when we
consider the high finishing of his pictures,
the extreme delicacy of his touch, and the
manner in which he blended his colours, so
as oftentimes to give too smooth an appear-
ance to the general surface, it is difficult to
imagine, that he, oi all painters, should most
diligently have searched for every broken
and irregular form. Yet so itis, and ina
degree that no one will conceive, who has
not: looked at his pictures and prints with
that impression: and whoever wishes to
gain an idea of the varieties of picturesque
forms in the outsides of buildings (from
which, however, the grand and beautiful
remains of antiquity are excluded) will find
that he has assembled them together in his
works with all the passion of a collector of
such objects, and all the skill of a painter
in combining them with each other) In
this, as 1 conceive, lies a very principal dif-
ference between these two artists in respect

332

to their buildings : Ostade seems to have
chosen with great judgment; but, having
made his choice, to have painted the objects,
whatever they might be, with little varia-
tion. Wovermans, on the other hand, ap-
pears to me to have collected all the scat-
tered varieties that he met with, as materi- ©
als for composition. ‘The buildings, there-

fore, in Ostade have, as might be expected,

a more striking air of naturalness ; those of
Wovermans display more diversity, and

greater ingenuity of combination.

It seems very obvious, (although the ex-
ainple of Wovermans, and even of Ostade,
might make it doubtful) that a sharp, spi-
rited touch, where the stroke of the brush
remains, is most adapted to express broken
irregular forms ; and thence we might natu-
tally conclude, that Teniers, the sharpness
and spirit of whose pencilling is almost pro-
verbial, would at least equal the painters
whom I have just mentioned in the number
and choice of those objects, which are so
well adapted to shew the peculiar excel-.
lence of his execution. Itis really surpris«

333

ing that the fact should be so exactly the
reverse: the forms of his cottages, so far
from being picturesque, are plain and com-
mon to such a remarkable degree, and so
void of intricacy and variety,that he seems
to have taken as much pains to shun all
sudden breaks and irregularities, as other
painters have taken toexpress them. ‘This
extreme plainness may, perhaps, be ac-
counted for, by supposing him to have been
influenced by the same motive which I have
supposed to have influenced Gaspar Pous-
sin ; for he may have judged, that the even
surface, and unbroken lines of his houses,
would give more effect to the sharp and va-
ried touches on the objects in his fore-
grounds. Iam inclined, however, to think,
that, independently of every other conside-
ration, he preferred plain cottages, and that
his taste did not lead him to search after,
or to admire picturesque circumstances in
any buildings : for when he did paint old-
fashioned houses, or castles with singular
turrets, he seems to have taken the whole,
just as it presented itself; often very crudely.

334

and without any of those softenings, dis-
fuises, or accompaniments of trees, and
vegetation, and without any of those
changes and additions, which painters usu-
ally take the liberty of making. In this,
again, the contrast between him and Wo-
vermans is very striking. _Wovermans had
so accustomed his eye to that variety and
play of outline, which arise from a mixture
of vegetation with wood-work and, ma-
sonry of every kind, that whatever parts of
buildings he painted, whether common
walls, roofs, and sheds, or garden walls with
terraces and summer-houses ; whether tur-
rets, or mansions with porticos and columns,
(for such, though not of a very pure archi-
tecture, he often introduced,) he never fail-
ed to adorn them, and to break and diver-
sify their outline, by means of trees, shrubs,
and climbing plants.

The known characteristic of Rembrant's
style; is a strongly marked effect of light
and shadow: he well knew, indeed, how
to delineate their nicer transitions, yet he
was less curious with regard to that detail

$35

which arises from sudden variety and intri-
cacy of form, than Ostade or Wovermans.
We often see in his pictures and prints, very
common-place forms of cottages’ and other
buildings ; but they hardly appear so, on
account of his peculiarmanagement of light
and shade, by which he contrived to raise
the character of vulgar objects, and to dis-
guise that of such as were raw and dis-
gusting. ‘This will clearly be perceived,
_ if we compare his representations of mean
subjects, with those of other painters who
have great reputation in the same line. I
have seen a butcher’s shop by Teniers,
painted with a truth that struck every ob-
server, and with an execution that claimed
the.admiration of every artist: I have like-
wise seen a picture of the same subject by
Rembrant, the execution of which was at
least as masterly, and the representation of
the principal circumstances, though less ob-
viously and popularly natural, equally just.
The Teniers perfectly. exemplified Mr.
Burke’s distinction ; the pleasure (mixed
indeed with some disgust) arose from the

336

mere power of imitation : in the Rembrant,
it arose froni the artist’s choice ef such ef-
fects of light and shadow, as alone, would
raise our admiration ; and, likewise, from
seeing those effects applied in such a man-
ner as to soften all the crudeness of objects
in themselves disgusting, without destroying
their naturalness. When he painted sub-
jects of a higher and more serious kind, the
buildings which he introduced, like the
dresses of his figures, are capriciously in-
vented, and of a style peculiar to himself.
He troubled himself very little about their
beauty, symmetry, or proportion ; his aim
was effect, which they are admirably caleu-
lated to produce: but however capricious
and singular, they never appear frittered
or unconnected : for those great principles
of union and breadth, which he so eminent-
ly possessed, made him attend to forms, as
far as those principles were concerned. His
buildings, therefore, with all their singula-
rities, have often an air of grandeur as well
as of richness, which they would lose, if se-
_ parated from all that accompanies them ;

337
whereas the grandeur of those buildings
which adorn. the works of the great Ita-
lian masters,and of those who have formed
themsely es on their model, i is. intrinsic; and
will bear to, be considered singly, bats
ak have endeavoured, ina. former part of

slanting roofs do not in general accord with
splendid architecture; and have shewn that
some of the most, eminent , ‘painters have
avoided them, in, buildings of that descrip-
tion. “My fotcher objections related chiefly
fo. the defects of their general outline,
which admits of scarcely any variation :

T shall now mention a few observations
on. their surface that have been com-
municated to me by a iearned and in-
genious friend, some of which relate to
mofe polished buildings ; but the general
principle of improvement extends to every
style. © The surface of slanting roofs mus

be nearly flat; decoration, Bik at lip? is ut
ficult: and though it is rough, when com+
pared with the surface of columns or of
hewn stone in general, it has no effect of

VOL. II. Z |

338

light and shadow ; it has also a more un-
fmished look than any other part ; a very
‘material circumstance in whatever is to be
combined with the highly-finished forms and
ornaments of architecture. It remains to
be considered, by what means these defects
may be diminished. Few roofs of ancient
buildings remain ; ip them, however, a pe-
culiar attention seems to have been paid
both to regularity of construction, and to
light and shadow. The Tower of the Winds
at Athens is covered with slabs of marble,
in each of which the horizontal edge pro-
jects so much, as to give a strong shade ;
while the vertical joints are so elevated as to
form high ribs, which break the uniform
surface in a very beautiful manner.* The
Lanthorn of Demosthenes is roofed in the
form of laurel leaves, which, in a different
* An ancient anecdote mentioned by the Abbe Winkle-
man, records the first inventor of this kind of covering; aud
proves the great attention that the Greeks paid to the forms
of their roofs, by the manner in which they rewarded those
avho made any essential improvements in them.
. © Nell’ isola di Nasso fu eretta una statua a certo Biza

quale avea il primo pensatoa formare col marmo pentelico
le'tegolé, onde coprirne gli edifizi.

339

Way, have the same effect. The ancient
mode of tiling by semi-circular tiles laid
within each other, gave a sort of fluted look
to the roof; and the old flat tiles of the
lower empire, which were joined with a
high rib something in the way of the 'T'em-
ple of the Winds, had the same effect of
light and shadow. Even the ridge and hip-
rolls of our roofs, diminish in some degree
the bareness of their appearance ; and our
pantiles, though much less picturesque than
the hollow tiles of the ancients, are, per-
haps, in point of form, the best material in
use for common covering. The richness
occasioned by these variations from unifor-
mity of surface, is also very striking in some
of the oldleaded roofs of our churches, where’
the sheets are small, and the rolls large: but
_ it is still more so, when, as it sometimes hap-
pens, apart of the roof is repaired with slate,
while the rest remains.in its original state.
‘The ancients seem to have had it in view
to give both Lightness and richness to their
roots, by a sort of lacing tothe edges of
them: the ridges as well as:theeaves, were
Z 2

340)

decorated with a sort of openwork of small’
knobs. or; projections; and* the same kind:
of ornament, yet. vemains with peculiarly
elegant effect; .in map y of our old: sisi:
and houses... s).4 lon f
These and. other) ce lee aaa varias
tions, judi¢iously ' applied, would give « a)
pleasing, variety. to slanting roofs of every
kind. ; and,to-some. of them, where the scale’
was hot too, Jarge;.a degree of finished)
beauty. worthy of being allied: with the:
most polished: architecture. » But »whatever'
changes) or improvements may be made in
the appearance .of:such roofs. by persons:
whose taste Jed them, towards such objects,
in, general; the: common: materials. of the
country; and; .the common method. of using
them, will of course: hé employed, ‘and!
. Such, uniformity and: plainness are not’only: .
-naturaliand| proper; but. give) a. zest to.any’
deviations from them.. isa test HY:
There is:an, idea, of. sie siutphegieal au-
nexed to a thatched cottage, which! is very.
much in. favour of that covering 5 and’ in-’
deed the appearaticéof new: thateli, both,

S41

from its Heatnesd and’ colaury is remarkably
pleasing. ‘It 1s no less picturesque, when
mossy, ragged, atid stiik in ‘among the
rafters in Ae? ; ; & species of that charac-
ter, however, which the keenest lover of it;
would rather see on another’s property than’
on his own. But between the two periods of
neatness, and of pictaresqtie decay, particu-
larly in the approach towards the latter,
thatch has something of a dainp dirty look ;
and, what would éften induce me to preter
tile or slate, that dampness is ‘increased both
in reality and a ppearance, by trees or climb-
ing plants hanging ‘or creeping over it :
whereas any covering of a hard material,
may without injury Be half concealed by
either of them ; and it rarely happens:that
there is any thing in the look of a cover-
ing, that could make ‘one’ regret its partial
concealment. .

“In all that relatés to’ cottages, hamlets,
and villages, to the grouping of them, and
eReir Hike ture witht trees and climbing plants,
the’ Hest itistruction May be gained from the
works of thie Dutch and‘ Pleinish masters ;

342

which. afford a greater variety of useful
hints to the generality of improvers, and
such as might more easily be carried
into practice, than these grander scenes
which are exhibited in the higher schools
of painting. All the splendid effects of ar-
chitecture, and of assemblages of magnifi-
cent buildings, whether in cities, or amidst
rural scenery, can only be displayed by
princes, and men of princely revenues ;
but it is in the power of men of moderate
fortunes, by means of slight additions and
alterations, to produce a yery essential
change in the appearance of farm buildings,
cottages &c. and in the grouping of them
in uf ayaa and such effects, though less
splendid than those of regular architecture,
are not less interesting. There is, indeed,
-no scene where such a variety of forms and
embellishments may be introduced. at SO,
small an expence, and without. any thing
fantastic, or unnatural, as that of a village;
none where the lover of painting, and the,
lover of humanity, may find so. many
sources of amusement and interest,

343

A number of mere ornamental buildings,
have very generally, an air of profuse osten-
tation, and, at the same time, are apt to
have a glaring, unconnected appearance :
and indeed, however judiciously they may
be placed and accompanied, they havea
want of interest, from the very circumstance
that they are designed for no other purpose
than that of ornament: the mind does not
feel entirely satisfied when that is the only
purpose; it likes to consider ornament as
an accessary, not as a principal. An ancient
temple, dedicated to a divinity of those
times, as ‘that of Clituamnus on the bank of
his own stream, sanctified by the supposed
presence of the god, frequented by his
worshippers, and decorated by their piety,
was then an object of gay and festive devo-
tion, and still continues to be looked at w ith
an interesting veneration; but the sensation
is comparatively cold, when ornament is it-
self the sole deity of every temple. I by
no’ means intend by this to condemn:such
buildings ; magnificence cannot be’ better
displayed ir in extensive gardens and pleasuré

344

grounds, than by giving scope to the inven-
tions of rising geniusses in architecture, or
by shewing us the real appearance of those
ancient buildings, which we have admired,
in pictures, _prints. and. “dravings ; but. if
could wish to, turn the minds of 3 jmproy ers
from tog much attachment to. solitary, pa-
rade, . towards objects . more. connected
with.general habitation and embellishment.
Where a mansion-house and a. place upon
a large scale, happen to be situated as close
toa Vv illage, as someof the most magnificent
seats in the kingdom. are to small towns,
- both styles of embellishment might be,
adopted : far from interfering, they. would,
add to, each other's effect, and it may | be
truly said, that there is no way in “which
wealth cap produce : such natural unaffected
variety, | and such interest, as by, ‘adoring
a real village, and promotin the. comfort Sy
and enjoyments o of, its iphabitants.* ~ataeal

va Nothitig: ever so strongly ‘impregdéd ime fwinto dhe Hae
cancy of sobitany grandeur agid powers; rym =
attends the eternal sameness | of. artificial, perenne pte

ners, as the ‘a towns a and 8 ee made! oral ceib

345

. Galdsmith has most. feelingly described
(more, | trust, from the warmthof a poetical
imagination and quick sensibility, than from
real fact) the ravages of wealthy pride. . My
aim, js to, shew that they are ng. jess hostile
to real taste, than to humanity ; and should
I succeed, it, is possible that those, whom all
the, affecting, images and pathetic touches
of Goldsmith would. not have restrained
from destroy: ipg a village, might even be in-
duced to. build one, in, order to. shew. their
taste in the decoration and. disposition ot
village-houses and eottages.j)o. 4)

As human, vanity, is yery fond of new
creations, it, may not be useless. to observe,
that to build an, entirely new. village, i is not
only, a more expensive undertaking, than to
add to an, old. one, but, that it, is, likewise; a
much more difficult, task to execute if with
whe sqine, naturalness and variety, of disposi-
tion 5a 3, al and, that 1 it, is hardly. possible to. imi;
tate, thope.cingumnstancesof long. sstablished
BeipeorsPOhmas Mwhtal te’varicus sasaclablvcul
life (not<séleeted Jandi compressed asin dranmatic sepreson-
tatign). are acted, by Eypuchs, ted} dtiw Baeoqzth

346

habitation, which, at the same time that
they suggest pleasing reflections to an ob-
serving mind, are sure to afford delight to
the painter’s eye.

An obvious and easy method of rebuild-
mg a village (and one which unfortunately
has been put in practice) is to place the
houses on two parallel lines, to make them
of the same size and shape, and at equal
distances from each other. Such a metho-
dical arrangement saves all further thought
and invention ; but it is hardly necessary
_ to say that nothing can be more formal and
insipid. ‘Other regular plans of a bet-
ter kind have been proposed ; but it seems
to me, that symmetry, which in cities, and
generally in all the higher styles of archi-
tecture produces such grand effects, is. less
suited to humbler scenes and buildings. —

The characteristic beauties of a ‘village,
‘as distinct from a city, are intricacy, variety,
and play of outline: and whatever is done,
should be with a design to promote those
objects. . The houses should,:.therefore, be
disposed with that view,’and shotild’ differ

347

as much in their disposition from those of
a regularly built city, as the trees which are
meant to have the character of natural
groups, should from those of an avenue.
Wherever symmetry and exact uniformity
are introduced, those objects which produce
a marked intricacy and variety must in ge-
neral be sacrificed. In an avenue, for in-
stance, sudden inequalities of ground, with
wild groups of trees'and bushes, which are
the ornaments of forest scenery, would not
accord with the prevailing character. In
the same manner where a regular street or
a square are to be built, all inequalities of
ground, all old buildings, however pictu-
resque, will injure that symmetry of the
whole, which must not, except on extraor-
dinary occasions, be sacrificed to particu-
lar detail.’ Now, in a village, all details,
whether of inequality of ground, of trees
and: bushes; or of old buildings of every:
kind, not only are in character, but ‘serve
as ‘indications, where, and in what ‘man-
ner 'inew buildings maybe placed s0 as:

348

at, once to. promote — VaSlEt yn si cone
nection.’

| There is no seelie Fake wittail ie
picturesqueness,. where simplicity . and: in-
tricacy can be so happilyunited as ina yil-
lage ; or where they, may;be)so well con-
trasted, without, any! affectation: or jinpro-
priety: Should there be a house:of an old:
style, m which not, only, the forms were of
a, picturesque uregularity,; but. the: thiis
were of that rich mellow, harmonious kind,
sojmuch admired by painters—an improver
who-had .ever studied’ pictures, woulkd rot)
suffer them to be, destroyed by plaster ox
white-wash. Another house might, have
something of the same character in respect,
to ferm.; butjinstead of displaying the samie;
variety of well-mixed tints, might,only look
suieardd (and. dirty; 5.1m, that, case ja, sdbex!
whitewash, svould,add) neatness| and: dvene;
ness.of colour toidivensity.of forms. Afithere:
were: mey vaeragules ar bareue any new:

sion b Jibincedoentis ‘banistiontinklaliagn

$49

erice “herve én’ tose “tits “which” painteys
adttire and mere dittiness of colds so theré
is as essential a difference between What is
sitnple % and: what is bald. © Baldness of effect,
in’all objects arises from want of shadow }
but" many ‘citeumstances’ that’ proche
depth of shadow, stich as projéctitig roof,
porches; “windows that ate recessed) are per-
fectly consistent witht ‘sitiplicity aid ui
forimity:" [id ast

~The forms’ of stilted aré not less to “i
attended to in village-houses, that in thosé
on a larger scale ; aind fi dottte respects still
more so: for although any poverty of form
gives greater offence when mixed with the
beauty and Splendour of arehitecture, yet;
in low‘ Houses, thé good or bad effect of
chinitiies ’is‘'more immediately striking; as
they are nearer the eye, and larger in-
portion. tothe building. In old ‘villagé:
houses| they’ have often the sare pictut
resque character, atid many of the ‘same
decorations, with ‘those of the ancient man-
sions already described ; and, indeed, scem
to have been copied front thetit. | 'Phese:

350

and a great variety of other forms, differing
in a number of circumstances, and _all of
them with some marked characteristic dis-
tinction, are to be found both.in. pictures
and in real buildings ; and I have often had
occasion to observe the amusing effect; of
that diversity in villages, and on the other
hand, the opposite effect of monotony of the
worst kind. One instance ofthe latter I men-
tion with regret, as the houses were in.a great
measure either, rebuilt or repaired: by: the
gentleman who. lives within a short distance
of the place, and who, in the two most .es-
sential points of neatness and comfort, has
great reason to be proud of what he. has
done : but the’ chimnies. are all single}, tally
and thin ; and I could not help, lamenting
that an undertaking, which in_other.,re,
spects deserved so much praise, should have
produced. the most wretched meagre, outline
I ever beheld. It is, the more: provok-
ing, as the village is beautifully backed with
trees, which serve to shew with perfect. dis-
tinctness, all these long. detached’ tubes,
The opposite extreme, in. some.of the | old

35]

stone chimnies, which are built as massively
as towers, is more suited to the lover of
painting ; who might in particular cases,
be induced to build a chimney of thatkind,
where something of a massive character
seemed to be wanting in the composition:
anew, but by no means an unentertaining
way of considering xP part. of a build-
Ns.

‘Trees, whether single or in groups, whe-
ther young or old, are ahsanasd y of the great-
est use in accompanying buildings of every
kind; but there seems to be a much. closer
‘union between them and low buildings.
Cottages appear torepose under their shade,
to be protected, sometimes supported by
them; and they, on the other hand, hang
over and embrace thé cottage with their
branches: it seems as if they could never
have been separated from each other ; and
there would be a sort of cruelty in dividing
them. If trees thus adorn the cottage, that,
in return, by the contrast of its form and
colour no less enhances the peculiar, beau-
ties of vegetation, and often fixes the atten-

o iad st

352 ,
tion on trees which in Other sitdations’ would
“he thtticdd. °°? Ne wonder then; if we are
articularly ‘struck with dny of the beatitit

fil exotics whet so placed} ab an acacia,
a pine, a cedar, that shade putt éfa villagé-
housé; with an arbutus, ora cluster "oF
ilics, oveMtopping the Wall, ot the ‘pales
of its garden. In thése ¢asés, Besides the
real ind less familiar beauty of such trees
and shrubs; and the efféct of contrast, there
is atiother cireumstance that helps to atttdel
and fix our attdiitions they are separated.
frotn’that infinite variety of similay prodtic-
tions, which rhilé it amuses distracts’ thé
eye in shrubberies, aadf ern of ex-
étics?

But though trees and ainda wey
kind havé a péculiat and distinguistied ef-
‘fect, in Consequence of accompanyin 2 3 cy
being accompanied by the Houses of a il-
lage, “dheréis another! tribe of platits which
oains ‘still’ more by such a Situation, and
which indeed no other can shew to suchi
advantage; I mean thé various sorts of
clithbine plants. All of them in their 1 na-

353

tive soils,and in their wild state, twist them=
selves round trees or bushes, mixing their
foliage with that of their supporters, enrich-
ing their summits, or hanging in festoons
from their branches ; nor can any thing be
more beautiful than such a union. But of
the exotic kinds, few among those that en-
dure the open air, will bear the drip of
trees so as to flourish amidst their boughs:
they therefore are generally seen nailed a-
gainst a flat wall, or supported by a pole ;
neither of which are very favourable to their
effect. As almost all of them require a free
eireulation of air, many of them warmth
and shelter, the best situation, in regard
both to their health and effect, seems to be
a projection from a building. Porticos_of
regular architecture, are too costly to be
made supporters of climbing plants, how-
ever, beautiful their union might be ; and
the same thing may in general be said of
_ temples: and ernamental buildings, in gar-
dens and. pleasure grounds) Other build-
mgs might be made expressiy for that
purpese 3 but it would: be difficult to
VOL. 11. AA

354

contrive such a variety of supports of dif-
ferent characters, as may be found in a yil-
lage ; or which, if not found there, may al-
ways be added to thehouses of it. A great
diversity of sudden and singular projections
is to be met with in all old houses that
have been added to at different times ; but
what I principally allude to, are porches,
of which so many models may be taken
both from real buildings, and from pictures,
Wherever honeysuckles, vines, jasmimes,
grow over them, they attract and please
every eye ; and the same sort of beautiful
effect (not indeed more beautiful) would
be produced by the less common exotic
climbers. p

It seldom happens that the taste of the
mere collector of curious plants, and that
of the picturesque improver, can be made
to accord so well as in this instance. Vil-
Jage-houses generally afford many warm as-
pects and sheltered situations, where the
less hardy climbers will flourish, and of
course a still greater number of more exe
posed walls and projections, against which

355

those that are perfectly hardy may be
placed : and trom the irregular -hape of
many of the houses, there are various di-
visions and compartments of various sizes
and heights, by means of which a collec-
tor of climbing plants might arrange them,
according to their different degrees of har-
diness and luxuriancy; so that while he was
indulging his favourite passion, he would
be adding the most engaging ornaments, to
the most pleasing of all rural scenes. In
all climbing plants, there is so much beauty
arising either from their flowers, their
foliage, or from their loose and flexible
manner of growing, that no arrangement
could well prevent them from giving plea-
sure to the lover of painting, as well as to
every spectator: for the detail would be in
a high degree interesting, whether the plants
were Considered in a botanical light, as de-
tached flourishing specimens; or ina pictu-
resque light, as exhibiting a variety of new
combinations of form and colour: the differs
ent vegetable tints being sometimes blend-

ed with the rich’méllow hues of old stone or
A-A 2

356

wood-work ; sometimes with the neatness,
and the fresh colours of new work. Some-
times too the more light and delicate leaves
and brilliant flowers would appear alone ;
at other times mixed and twined with large
broad leaves: either jagged and deeply
indented, such as the vine; or entire, as those
of the aristolochia. isi

Although I have particularly dwelt upoa
the beauty of climbing plants, I do not
mean that no others ought to be made use
of in such situations as I have described.
Where there are brick houses in villages, we
sometimes see fruit-trees against them,
while honeysuckles or jasmines are trained
over the porch or the trellis before the door.
This mixture of utility with ornament, of
boughs which are nailed. close to the wall,
with those which hang loosely over a pro-
jection, forms a pleasing variety ; indeed,
fruit-trees, which in every situation give the,
chearfullest ideas, are peculiarly adapted to. _
villages; for as they exhibit both in spring
and autumn a striking image of fertility,
they, are the properest, and indeed the most

S57

usual accompaniments to habitation. Con+
sidered, likewise, in another point of view,
they are seldom seen to such advantage in
other situations ; the .effect of blossoms,
however gay. and chearful, is often spotty
and glaring; but I have frequently ob-
served, that when they are seen near stone
buildings or houses.of a light colour, the
whole is upon the same scale of colour-
ing, and. produces a highly brilliant, but
harmonious picture. Should the taste of
improvers be turned towards the embellish-
ment of villages, a variety of such standard
fruit-trees might be introduced, as are re-
markable in their different kinds, not only
for their goodness, but for the beauty of
their blossoms and fruit. .

It might not perhaps be expected that
a lover of painting and of picturesque cir-
eumstances, should speak of trees nailed
close to a wall, or of clipped hedges, as
objects that are pleasing to the eye : it is
certain, however, that both of them do give
pleasure, though of a totally different. kind

358

from that which we feel in viewing a tree
in its untouched luxuriant state, bending
with the weight of its fruit; or from a neg-
lected hedge with trees and bushes of vari-
ous heights, ‘and overgrown with ivy and
woodbine:' The fact is, that neatness and
regularity are so connected with the: habi-
tation of man, that they almost always
please ona small scale, and where that con-
nection 1s imniediate : especially when they
are contrasted with what is wild and luxu-
riant, without being slovenly. A hedgethat
has been so carefully and regularly trained
and sheared as to be of equal thickness from
top to bottom, gives pleasuré also, from its
answering so perfectly the end for which it
was designed : on the other hand, where
_there is'a wall, climbing plants may be
allowed to spread over it in all their lux-
uriancy ; for they adorn, without pe bates
it as a fence. seek

‘The building which gives most eonse-
quence to a village,and distinguishes it from
a mere hamlet, is the church, That forms
its most conspicuous feature at a distance,

359

and often in the near view a central point,
round which the houses are irregularly dis-
posed. Indeed, the church, together with
the church-yard, is, on various accounts, an
interesting object to the villagers of every
age and disposition: to the old and seri-
ous, as a spot consecrated to the purposes
of religion, where the living christian per-
forms his devotions, and where, after death
his body is deposited near those of his an-
cestors, and departed friends and relations :
to the young and thoughtless, as a place,
where, on the day of rest from labour, they
meet each other in their holyday clothes ;
and also (what forms a singular contrast
with tombs and gravestones,) as the ‘place
which at their wakes, is the chief seene of
their gayety and rural sports. Of the most
conspicuous part of churches there are vari-
ous forms ; among which, none is, perhaps,
more suited to a village, than that which
occurs inthe often-quoted lines of Milton—
a tower with battlements. A tower, in its
most simple, unvaried unermmamented state,

560

always strikes and pleases the eye ; it also
admits of a high degree of ornament. The
battlements the simplest break to the uni-
formity of a mere wall; it is sufficient to
give variety to the summit, without injury
to its massiveness. On the other hand, pin-
nacles and open work, such as are seen in
many of the towers of our cathedrals, are
the most striking specimens of richness and
lightness, both ‘of. design’ and execution.
They are, however, on account of that rich-
ness, less suited to a village than toa city,
yet they will not bear to be simplified ; for
where a plain pinnacle is placed on each
corner ofa tower, the whole has a very
meagre appearance: indeed, when we con-
sider, what are the chief. characteristics of

the style of architecture to which they be-
long, piain simple Gothic, is almost as
great a contradiction, as plain simple: intri-
cacy and enrichment. . Battlements are .
not liable to the same objection as pinna-
cles, for their effect, though simple, is never
meagre. > The battlemented tower admits,

361

also, of many picturesque additions, sich
as turrets rising above, er projecting heyand
the main body, most, of which additions
and variations were probably taken from
those of a similar stash in ee ancient
castles.*

. 'The spire has its own pesatiak sanity
though ofa very inferior kind to that of the
tower; yet there are situations, where: the
spire, on account of its height, and for'the
sake of variety, may have the preference:
but as its beauty consists in its height, its
gradual diminution, :and its connection
with the base, nothing can be more absurd
than a short spire stuck upon a tower, and
that by —_ of ornament.

* The mediante passage in Milton,

“ Towers and battlements it.sees

“ Bosom’d high i in tufted trees,”
has, I believe, been most commonly supposed to “refer te
churches of that form: but I should rather conceive that it
alludes to a castle ; a more suitable, beeause a more roman-
tic habitation for the “ Cynosure of neighbouring eyes,”
than a wjllage or a town,

362

A church, like other buildings, is greatly
improved by theimmediate accompaniment
of trees; and luckily few church-yards are
without them. The yew, which is the mos
common in that situation, is, from the depth
and solemnity of its foliage, the most:suited
tout, and is, indeed, as much consecrated
to the dead, as the cypress was among the
ancients.; Whatever trees are planted in a
church-yard, whether evergreens or deci-
duous, it) is clear that they should be of
a dark foliage: evergreens, therefore, as
more solemn, in general deserve the pre-
ference ; and there seems to be no reason
why in the more southern parts of England,
cypresses should not be mixed: with yews,
or why cedars of Libanus, which are per-
fectly hardy,and of a much quicker growth
than yews, should not be introduced. In
high romantic situations particularly, where
the church-yard is elevated above the gee
neral level, a cedar, spreading its branches
downwards from that height, would have

363

the most picturesque, and at the same’ time
the most solemn effect.

The last finishing charm of a -village-
scene, ns of all others, is water ; and though
thereis no character of water which will not
add an interest to whatever is connected
with it, yet a brook seems to be that, which
most perfectly accords with the scale and
character of a village. In the same de-
gree also, the simple construction of a foot-
bridge which has been already mentioned,
formed by flat stones Jaid on more massy
blocks, agrees with the character of a brook:
indeed it generally happens that on a small
scale, the rude efforts of inexperienced may
have something more attractive, and what
is very justly called picturesque, thar
that which is done by the more regular
process of art; sucha bridge, for instance,
whether of wood or stone, than one of a
small arch.

Where the country abounds with quar-
ries, we often see large flat stones laid
upon others for the purpose of washing, in

364
the same manner as they are placed in the
rude bridges, and near to one. of them.
‘These have their effect to the :painter’s eye,
merely as objects in the fore-ground, and
as being so perfectly in character with all
that is near them: but they are more in-
teresting, on-account of the number of pic-
turesque circumstances which the purpose
they are intended for gives rise to; and,
therefore, trifling as they may appear, are
not unworthy the attention of an improver.
There is no-situation in which. they are not
interesting to :the lover of painting; but I
remember to ‘have been particularly de-
lighted with,;a scene of this kind, close by
the road side. in a romantic country, and
at.a short distance from a town.. It was a
place where a small cascade had worn a ba~
san in the natural reek : I came suddenly
upon it at a turn of the road; it was almost
surrounded by women busily employed,
but gaily laughing, talking and singing,
amidst the noise of beating clothes, and the
splashing of the water. Some of the clothes

305

were spreadout on. the low rocks near thie
bason, and partly hanging down their sides;

others were in bundles! on the ground, or on
the heads of those who were carrying them
away; while their different shapes, folds,
and colours, the actions and expressions
of the women, the: clearness and’ various
motions of the water, the whole seen on a
beautiful summer evening, made the great-
ést impression on me as a picture: but it
also struck me as the most delightful image
of peace and security, and brought to
my mind the well-known lines of the great
poet, inwhich he has introduced that image
with the most powerful and tender effect.
It is in that interesting part, where, as
Achilles is pursumg Hector, they come.to
the two fountains of ee DNs

+ Bude dae? avr ay TAUVOL EUPEES, EYYUS ExTE
Karoi, ~Aatweos, “oly tpara cryarotura, =
Tavvecxov Tpwwv aroxor, xarau re Duyorpes, ov
Towpt em esonvns, mpiv erdeww vexs Ayovwy.” j 4
. “Niad, lib. 21. 7." 955.

> ae LidUL

366

May we never féel the full pathos of this
affecting passage.*

I may, perhaps, be thought by many haf
my readers, to have indulged myself too
long in my passton for village scenery. I
must repeat as my excuse, what Isaid when
I first entered on the subject, that “there 1s
no scene where such a variety of forms and
embellishments may be introduced at so
small an expence, and without any thing |

* Pope’s translation of this passage, though the lines are
very pleasing, is far from having the pathos of the original,

Each gushing founta marble cistern fills,

Whose polish’d bed receives the falling rills ;

Where ‘Trojan dames, e’er yet alarm’d by Greece, ai
Wash’d their fair garments in the days of peace.-

The difference, I believe, arises in a great degree from
the different arrangement of the circumstances. In Homer,
call the deseriptive part comes first, while the reflection is
entirely reserved to the last ; an art (if such it may be ealled,
where there*is no appearance of any) of which there ‘are
other striking instances in that great father of poetry.
The word alarmed, also, does not express, what is clear-
ly expressed in the original, the actual invasion of the

country.

567

fantastic or unnatural, as ina village ; and
where the lover of painting, and the lover
of humanity, may find so many sources of
amusement and interest.” All ‘the liberal
arts are justly said to soften our manners,
and not suffer them to be fierce and savage.

None, I believe, has a.juster claim to that
high praise, than the art of paintjng. Who-
eyer has looked with delight at Gainsbo-
rough’srepresentations of cottages and their
inhabitants ; at Greuze’s interesting pic-
tures ; at. the various groups and effects in
those of the Dutch masters, will certainly
feel from that recollection, an additional
delight in viewing similar objects and cha-
racters in nature: and I believe it is diffi-
eult to look at any objects with pleasure
‘(unless where it arises from brutal or tumul-
tuous emotions) without feeling that. dis-’
position of mind, which tends towards kind-
ness and benevolence; and surely whatever
creates such a disposition, by increasing our
pleasures andenjoyments, cannot be too
much cultivated. I:have just’ mentioned
Gainsborough’s pictures, and will here add?

368

a few words with regard to the painter him-
self. When helivedat Bath, I made frequent
excursions with him imto the country; he
was a manofan eager irritable mind, though
warmly attached tothose he loved;of alively
and playful imagination, yet at times severe
and sarcastic: but when we came to cottage
or village scenes, to groups of children, or to
_ any objects of that kind which struck his
fancy, I have often remarked in his counte-
nance am expression of particular gentle-
ness and complacency. I have often toa
observed Sir Joshua Reynolds, when elul-
drem have been playing before him; the
most affectionate parent could: not gaze ab
them with a look more expressive. of kind=
ness and interest. He was indeed the mild-
est; and most, benevolent of men ; but im)
that look ‘was clearly expressed the: mixture:
of; interest; which: arose from: his. art, amd
which, seemed to give additional sare —
naturalj philanthropy...

With respect to; the particular mica 46
this Essay, although by, the.study of; pie=
tures a, man, will: gain: but dittle knowledge’

369

of architecture as a science, yet, by see-
ig the grandest and most beautiful spe-
cimens of that art happily grouped with
each other and with the surrounding ob-
jects, and displayed in the most favour-
able pomts of view, he may certainly ac-
quire a just idea of their forms and effects,
and their connection with scenery. He will
also gain a knowledge, not easily acquired
by any other means—that of the infi-
nitely diversified characters and effects of
broken and iuregular buildings with their
accompaniments ; and of all that in them,
and in similar objects is justly called
picturesque, because they belong to pic-
tures, and to the productions of no other
art.
The more I reflect on the whole of the
subject, the more I am convinced, that
the study of the principles of painting in
the works of eminent painters, is the best
method of acquiring an accurate and com-
prehensive taste and judgment, in all that
regards the effects and combinations of
VOL, IE. BB |

370

visible objects :\ and thence I conclude,
that unless we are guided ‘by those enlarg-
ed ‘principles, which instead of confinmg
‘our ideas to the peculiar and~ exclusive
tiodes of one nation, or one: period, direct
‘our choice towards whatever lis excellent in
every age, and every country—ve may in-
‘deed’ have’ fine ‘houses, ‘highly’ polished
‘grounds and gardens, and beautiful orna-
trehtal buildings, but we shall not:have
that general combination of form and eéf-
‘fect, ‘which is by far the: most essential
point; which makes amends *for the:want
of particular beauties, but the absence
‘of which no patties beauties can com-
pensate, 9 10 < | 98S OF be

P.8

: vw ‘i #

“NOTES AND ILLUSTRATIONS.

une

dois 3
2,1. 1. Tur circumstance of tints being revived by
means of water, is little attended to but by painters.
It is a rule in their art, that no tint should be
introduced; into a picture, without being revived
again in other places ; in short, that it should in a
amanner echo from one part of the composition to
another, and that no considerable part should be
without it: a-rule, by no means founded on the

«mere practice of ‘the art, but on repeated ob-

‘, servations, of _ the . most harmonious, combina-
tions. in nature. Now, water, by, repeating not
only, the brilliancy, but the;hue of the sky, acts as

a powerful harmonizer in respect to colour, and .
for that reason few compositions are totally without
it... A small quantity, however, will answer that
purpose ; often better than a larger expanse, the
brilliancy of which might be too. powerful for the
rest of the picture. This will account for the
"seemingly insignificant bits of water that we see in
pictyres, and also for the pleasure which lovers of

BBQ.

P97. 1.

372

painting feel, when after viewing any natural scen-
ery deficient in that respect, they catch a glimpse
of water, however trifling : a pleasure which arises
not merely from its brilliancy, but also from that
revival and renewal of colour, by means of which,
the beauty and harmony of the whole is so greatly
augmented.

These remarks may be said to belong more im-
mediately to the art of painting; but whatever tends
to add new pleasures to those which we already re-
ceive from the common objects and effects of na-
ture, cannot be foreign to the purpose of this
work,

Q. All that part of the fable which relates to the
form and position of the Cyclops’ eye, is by many
supposed to have been invented since the time of
Homer : it is certain that he is perfectly silent with
respect to them both. Some of his most diligent
interpreters have also thought, that he never intend-
ed torepresent Polyphemusashaving been originally
of a different conformation from that of other men,
but merely as having lost an eye by some accident;
and at Catanea in Sicily, there is‘a sculpture in re-
lief, which does represent him according to this
idea. Notwithstanding these authorities I am
still inclined to think, that Homer did'mean to
representthe Cyclops in general asa one-eyed race
by nature, whatever may have’been his‘notion of
the form and position of that one eye. ‘There is
a passage in Strabo which clearly proves that he
was of that opinion ; speaking of Homer's mixing

$73

truth with falsehood, he says, that he probably bor-
rowed res yovomerus xvxAwmas, from the history of
the Arimaspians. An observation also which [ —
heard at the time [ was writing this note, strongly
influenced my opinion: | then mentioned the sub-
ject of it incompany with some friends of mine, very
much versedin all classical learning ; among whom,
a@ person now no more, whose words in public and
private had such weight, that the slightest of them
are recollected, said, he was persuaded that Poly-
phemus never had more than one eye ; for if he
had ever had two, Homer would not have omitted
telling us how he had lost one of them. This
remark, though slightly thrown out, struck me as
containing great justness of observation, and great
knowledge of Homer’s character.

But though Homer is silent as to the form and
position of the eye, both these circumstances, as
likewise the etymology of the name, Cyclops, are
mentioned with remarkable exactneés in the Theo-
gony ; a poem ascribed to Hesiod, but which, I
believe, is generally thought to be posterior both
to him and Homer. }

“Movvos & ofbarwos pecow eorentilo peromw”
Kuxawmes 3” ovo’ now emwvvpov, ovvex cope oPawy
Kuxdrclepns op baros Eess evexeilo uélomy.

Euripides, who has written a whole play on the
subject of the Cyclops, says nothing of the form of
the eye, and very slightly alludes to its position ;
with regard to the latter, Ovid has in two passages
followed Hesiod very exactly.

| STS

Whatever may be thought of the merit of this
invention in poetry, it has certainly furnished a very
bad monster in painting ; for the artists who have
represented a Cyclops, have placed, the eye, not. -
merely in the middle of the face (which: possibly

_pirwmov, as well as ‘frons, might, with a little’
licence, be supposed to signify,y but in the
exact middle of. the forehead, considered sepa-
_ rately. Callimachus, and, after him, Virgil, have
given a much more picturesque image—
Too Vor opuv
Data pwsvoyrnva, caxsrion TeTpa bot
Agwoy vmoyAuucovta,

Callimach. Hymuus in Dianam.

Ingens, quod: solunitorvasup fronter latebat—
_Boeid; b. 3.

the exact reverse of an eyé in the most open and
conspicuous part of the face.’ ‘Theocritus dwells
particularly on the thickness, and. the continued
length of the eyebrow— Hornets

Aura wey oPpusems: warts petTwmy,

Ef wras terares mors P’wregay ws, pase puconpece
From these descriptions, added to the general cha-
racte: in Homer, a much less unnatural, aud, at
the same time a more terrific monster might have
been produced, even supposing the popular fable
to be ina great measure adopted. The eye might
for instance be made central, and round; but be —
placed according to the authorities I have just
quoted, under the forehead. Such an eye, half
concealed by the overhanging eyebrow, and dread_
Sully gleaming from beneathit would giveaporten-

tous character; yet still, being so accompanied, and
being placed, if not in ‘the usual situation, at least
in the usual line, would not; as [ conceive, have
that appearance, of stupid blindness, which a Po-
_lypheme in painting, (before his adventure with
Ulysses) always presents.
That appearance I take to arise, not solely from
a position of the eye, so different and so distant
from its usual situation, but, also because the
painters have marked the sockets of the two eyes;
probably from finding that when the whole space
between the brow and the cheek was filled up, the
face lost its fourm, and became a shapeless Jump :
yet, on the other hand, when the sockets of the
eyes are ever so slightly indicated, it is impossible
not to. look there for the organs of sight; and not
finding them. there, the idea. of blindness is una-
voidably impressed. Now, 1 believe, that ifa
single eye were placedimmediately above the nose,
and under the brow, and no indication were made
of other.sockets, that single eye would give the
idea of vision. Then the one, continued, shagey
eyebrow, so strongly and distinctly expressed by.
Theocritus, which seems to favour the idea of an
eye in the centre, would, above all things, give a
dark and savage look to the giant cannibal :* for the
mere junction of the eyebrows, is said to have
given un air sinistre to Marshal Turenne ; a man

* What I have endeavoured to explain in words, Mr. West, the
President of the Royal Academy has most happily and. forcibly ex-
pressed by a few touches of his pencil, His highly poetical and cha-
racteristic sketch is in my possession,

P. 122.

376°

hardly less famed for the mildness of his nature,
than for his skill and valour in war,

Although I have on a former occasion disclaim-
ed any critical knowledge of the Greek language,
I must add to this long note, by making an ac-
knowledgment of the same kind. I should be
sorry to be suspected of making a parade of erudi-
tion, if | really were possessed of any ; much more
having no such pretensions. I thought the subject
new and curious ; I wished to collect and*commu-
nicate, whatever might throw light upon it; and I
have on this, as on many-other occasions, received

great assistance from my ingenious and learned
friends,

1.13. The effect of coming upon objects sud-
denly and without preparation is so well known,
that I should hardly have mentioned it, were it not
that the general system of opening and clearing
has made it much less common, and less natural
when attempted. Where a thick plantation is
made to blind you till the raster thinks you ought
to see, there is a lurking suspicion in the mind of
an effect to come, very fatal to the intended im-
pression. — :

“Ten lines hence a ghost, and hah! a start.”

There is besides a sort of impatience and
irritation at being blindfolded for any length of
time, and not allowed to make your own composi-

tions, as you may amidst forest glades and thickets.
The circumstance of a door or gateway, in the

377

place where it seems naturally placed for conveni-
ence, is the most effectual method of creating sur-
prize. The gateway at the end of Woodstock,
through which Blenheim is first discovered, is one
of the best examples of it in that particular situa-
tion; and I am apt to think that the plainness, and.
even bareness in the space before the gateway, and
the absence of ornamental plantation, contributes
to the surprize and delight, which all must feel at
the first view of that magnificent pile of buildings ;
of which: it has been the peculiar fate to excite in
almost all beholders the highest admiration, with
an equal repugnance to acknowledge it, and a
strange desire of reasoning themselves out of their
own feelings and impressions,

P. 126.1.6. The only difference between a garden and a
fine sheepwalk, where oaks, beeches, thorns, hol-
dies, junipers, yews, &c. grew naturally, would be
the changing of those trees for exotics, such as
planes, acacias, tulip trees, pines, arbutus’s, red
cedars,and the having the ground mowed instead
of fed, and the clumps dug. Now if pines, arbu-—
tus’s, laurustinus’s, &c. were “mixed, as at Mount
Edgcumbe, in the more distant parts (and there
seems to be no reason against familiariziug our
eyes toa mixture of the most beautiful exotics
where the climate will suit them) the distinction
which would remain, and which would be almost
entirely reduced to mowing and digging, would not
be much in favour of gardens;

78

P. 156. 1.20. "The abb? de Lille, who has, very “pointedly
_ ridiculed the little fountain and the statues in 2

citizen's garden, and all such attempts to be mag-
nificent id miniature, has done justice to the real ~
magnificence and splendour of those‘ on a large
scale, and has celebrated them in verses well suited _
to the effects he has described. | Mr. Mason, on

the other hand, ha< altogether condemned upright e

- fountains with their decorations, and the principle

on which they aremade. He had certaily a good
right to object to them in the English garden, of
which he has made Simplicity the arbitress ; but
to condemn them absolutely and universally, sa-
yours more of national: prejudice, than of genuine
comprehensive taste,“ As I feel something of a
national pride, | am sorry to give a decided prefe-
rence to the French pvet in pomt of justness and li-

berality ;- but L have. often thought that Mr. Ma-

P. 159.

son's passion for the two words, Simplicity and Li-
berty, has in this, and in other instances; betrayed

him into opinions and sentiments .of .a very con- -

tracted kind... Upon this ectasion he:says,
“Thy poet Albion scorns,

« F’en for 2 cold unconscious element
“To forge the fetters he would scorn to wear.”

It is difficult to say, whether Simplicity, or Liber-”

‘ty, would have most reason to be disgusted with

so puerile a conceit.

1. 17. The same. aversion to symmetry shew-
ed itself nearly, at the same! period, in other —
arts as well as in gardening: fugues and imi-

379

tations in music began to grow out. of fashion,
about the. time that terraces and.avenues were
demolished; but the impfoyements,in, modern _
music have a very, different, character from those
in. modern gardening, for,no One. can accuse
| Hayda or Paesiello of taineness or monotony. The
passion for strict fugues im masic, and for exact
symmetry in gardens, had been.carsied to excess ;
and when totally undisguised and unvaried, it cre-
ated in both arts.a dryness and pedantry , of style :
but the principle on.which that passion is founded ©

.» Should neverbe totally. neglected, Some of the

greatest, masters, of. music ;in later times, among
whom. Handel claims the highest place, have done
what i improvers might well have. done; they have
». Rot abandoned symmetry, but have mixed it, (par-
ficularly in accompaniments,) with what is more
wild and irregular.. Among many other instances
_ there is part of a chorus of Handel's in the Ora-
torio of Jephtha, which strongly illustrates all that
A haye, been dwellimg upon. It is that which be-
_ © No more to Ammon’s God and King,”
a chorus which Mr. Gray, (by no means partial to
Handel) used to speak of with wonder. The first
part, though admirable, is not to my present
purpose ; the second opens with a fugue on the
words, >
« Chemosh no more
“ Will we adore, .
* Wath sanhealll enihicesh t0:Joorsh dee.”

380

The subject for two bars continues on the same
note without any change of interval, and the sim-
plicity and uniformity of the notes, may be compar-
_ ed to that of the straight line mn visible objects. The

_ear and the eye, by habit, equally judge of what is
intended to have a correspondent part, even before
that part isheard, or seen; and feel a sensible
pleasure when it is perceived, and a proportiona-
ble disappointment when it is wanting. Here then
the ear expects another set of voices to take up
the strain it is become acquainted with, which ac-
cordingly is done ; but then the counter-tenors
who opened the fugue, instead of pursuing some-
thing of the same uniform character as was usual
in the more ancient fugues and cannons, join with
the trebles, and break out into a light and brilliant
melody (though still in fugue) on the words “ with
timbrell’d anthems,” while the tenors continue the
plain chant of the-opening ; which again, when they
have finished it, the basses take up. ‘The sur-
prize and delight at the fulness of the harmony
when all the instruments join with this third part, is
euhanced by the recollection of the simple uni-
form beginning, and also by the general symme-
try ; that is, by the continued expectation of a
correspondent part, the strain of which we know,
but are ignorant of the rich, powerful, and com-
manding effect of the whole union : then the light,
and brilliant strain, “with timbrell’d anthems”
joined. to the varied touches of the instrumental
parts, has the same kind of effect on the ear, as

$81

the playful and intricate forms of vegetation, mixed
with the plain, solid, and distinct masses of stone,
have on the eye.

P. 163.1. 10. As a further illustration of what Sir Joshua
Reynolds has said upon the subject of imitation
and originality, 1 will mention an example taken
from an art in which he was not very conversant.
If ever there was a truly great and original genius
in any art, Handel was that genius in music ; and
yet, what may seem no slight paradox, there never
‘was a greater plagiary. He seized, without scru-
ple or concealment, whatever suited his purpose ;
but as those sweets which the bee steals from a
thousand flowers, by passing through its little la-
boratory, are converted into a substance peculiar
to itself, and which no other art can effect,—so,
whatever Handel stole, by passing through the
powerful laboratory of his mind, and mixing with .
his ideas, became as much his own as if he had
been the inventor. Like the bee, too, by his
manner of working, he often gave to what was
unnoticed in its original situation, something of
high and exquisite flavour. To Handel might
well be applied, what Boileau, with more truth
than modesty, says of himself—

Et meme en imitant toujours original.

P. 205.1. 7. A passage from Plutarch was pointed out to
me as extremely illustrative of the bad effect of a

4

. $82

passion for lightness and elegance, bya friend, who
© is himself of all others the most capable in every

way of. illustrating the whole subject. “ This

fourth temple of Jupiter Capitolinus (the three
‘former having perished by fire) was completed,

“and dedicated by Domitian. ‘The columns were
‘cut out of Pentelic marble, having their thickness
“most beautifully proportioned to their length ; for

73/80 O14

P. 213.

we saw them at Athens: but being cut over again,
‘and polished at Rome, they did not gain so much
in ‘elegance, as they’ lost in symmetry ; they ap-
peat too slender, and are void of beauty.”
Ab ficansat in the Life PGphcae

last. I ais not ii whether Vinbrugh ever was

»» in Italy, or;whether there ever was a.print of the
i» house of Nicolé di Rienzi before that by Pira-

“nesi, in his Views of Rome ;* but-supposing him
to: have’ seen either the house itself, or a print of
it, I should not 'be’surprised if it had. suggested to
him the idea of the.open arches on the top of Blen-
heim. The:honse of Rienzi (by Piranesi’s,account)

‘was built out’of the ruins of some ancient edifices,

‘from which the) entablature was probably taken:
‘immediately over that entablature (as at Blenheim)
are raised some open arches, which, terminate the

whole ;, a, mode of: finishing the summit, which I

have seldom observed in other buildings. These -

, \arches, however, are quite simple, hke those of au
*

"Tom, 1. ‘Tayola 21.

$83

aqueduct ; whereas’ the arches at Blenheim are
turned to’ different. points, and, with their piers,
cluster together! like some*of the’ old ‘chimnies,

») ol and thence acquire’ that. richness whitch Vanbrugh
aimed at. jor we do

P. 958.1, .18....As,.Mr. “Kaichs sae citeservidca me to have
-..., been mistaken ip. every thiug that [,have.advanced
| «fy with respect to the temple of Vesta at Tivoli, and

_-s» +f9);/a@8 he has. thought it worth bis while to write an

_yoy .p additional section for the purpose of pointing out

)», those mistakes, I must, endeavour to shew that

1 am not so completely in the wrong, as.be wishes

* make me appear.*

_ Every author | presume has a right. to expect,

._ that, a, candid adversary will pay some regard to

the general intention, and, spirit in w hich the part

_ he criticises.js, written; and not lay hold of a par-

ticular section aud consider it separately, as if it

had no connexion with what had gone before.

There was no difficulty in discovering my inten-

‘\ti6n's for not to mention the general tenor of all

that had been said on the subject, the para-

~“gtaph immediately preceding the one which

va he “rélates to the’ temple at Tivoli, was written for

ids ceo, g express a ig of guarding ma mg any mis
som a ai

1 Tene Inguiry, Part 1st. “Chap, 5. Sec. 24. ‘Second Edit.

. As all that relates to the) subject in question is contained in little

-snore than four pages, this general reference I imagine is sufficient.

toler) Essay on Architecture and Buildings, P, 271.

384

I there endeavoured to shew as distinctly as
possible, that the principles or qualities of beauty
as enumerated by Mr. Burke, could not be ap-
plied in the same degree to buildings as to other .
objects; and I particularly observed, that, as the
curves in architecture are regular and uniform,
those waving lines, whose easy, but perpetually
varying deviations give such a charm to a number
of objects, must chiefly be confined ‘to the less
essential parts: and again, that angles, which cer-
tainly are not beautiful separately considered, must ©
in buildings perpetually occur. This, with the
rest of the paragraph, Mr. Knight appears never
_ to have read, or to have completely discharged
from his memory; for he has reasoned on the
application of the qualities of beauty, just as if I
had made no restriction, but meant them to be
applied as absolutely and unreservedly to buildings.
as to other objects.

_ There is another restriction, which he at least
must have read, as it is in the part of my Essay
which he has quoted in his own work. I have
there said, after enumerating Mr. Burke’s princi-
pies.of beauty, “ The temple which I have just
mentioned, has, I think, as much of those chief
qualities of general beauty, as the particular
principles of architecture will allow of.” Now
one principle of architecture, and a very essential
one, is, that the maim walls, whether straight or
circular, must be perpendicular: all variation
and departure from that direction are therefore

385

ubsolutely excluded ; and this alone makes 4 most
material difference between the form’ of build-
ings, and of other objects. A tree, for instance,
being supported by its roots, a waving line in its
stem is olten in the highest degree giaceful, yet
gives no idea of waut of firmness and stability ;
but a building owes it’s chief stability, and still
more the impression of it, to it’s perpendicularity.
Another principle of architecture is, that the
curves, especially in the main parts, must be
regular and uniform: this again excludes number-
less varieties in the direction of the parts, so
pleasing in maiy objects. A varied kuoll (to give
another example from natural objects) while it
presents a pleasing form from whatever point you
view it, offers a number of perpetually changing
swellings and hollows as you go round it: whereas
in going round a circular building, the same uni-
form curve must continue.

These examples are sufficient to shew, that a
manifest distinction exists, and ought to be made,
between buildings and other objects; and that ac-
cording to my restriction, the qualities of beauty
are to be applied to them as much, but only as
much, as the principles of architecture will allow
of: if therefore among the principles of beauty
there should be any which those of architecture
will not allow of at all, or only in a small degree,
they of course are either totally excluded, or in
that degree only to be admitted. Thus, when in
Mr. Burke’s enumeration it is said of beautiful

you. U ce

386

objects that they are “ thirdly, to have a variety
in the direction of the parts, but fourthly, ta
have those paris not angular, but melted as it
were into each other,” the question is whether
this principle (for it is only one) can be applied in
any, and in what degree to the temple of ‘Tivoli;
which, as it is well known, is a circular building,
surrounded by coluamms in the same direction,
The forms of temples, as indeed of all buildings,
may be divided into two general classes: circular
or round; and square or angular: the second,
by far the most numerous, is excluded by the
words “ not angular.” The principle therefdre,
if applicable at all, must be applied to round
buildings; and if the spirit of what Mr. Burke
has said be attended to, I believe it will apply as
mouch as can be expected in such cases: for the
lines mall circular objects have a perpetual, though
uniform variation; and as they are constantly and
insensibly retiring from the eye, they answer to
the description of ‘‘ melting as it were into each
other,” much more than the lines in square, that
is, in any other buildings.

I must here make my reader acquainted with
some dextrous manceuvres of my antagonist. The
principle in discussion, as | began by remarking,
though divided into two parts, is only one: for it
is obvious that if you take the third part singly,
without the limitation in the fourth, you totally
pervert Mr. Burke’s manifest intention. This,
however, is precisely what Mr. Knight has done ;

38?

he has confined himself, (and he had his reasons
for so’ doing) solely to “ variety in the direction
of the parts:” he has indeed in his quotation from
my essay, given the words “ melted as it were
into each other,” though he has taken no notice
of them in his statement; but what is most sin-
gular, he has emitted, even in the quotation, the
words “not angular but”—which immediately
precede them, and which so very particularly
point out and limit Mr. Burke’s intention. It
may easily be seen how strong a first impression
may be made by an adversary, were he even a
feeble one, who quotes, indeed, some words, but
argues as if he had not quoted them; who omits
others in his quotation, which form a most ma~
terial restriction; and who totally disregards that,
and every restriction and limitation.

That a round building is, generally speaking;
more free from angles than a square one, need
not be much insisted upon: and as the temple of
Tivoli is round, and as a great majority of the
ancient temples are square, it may certainly be
said, comparatively with other temples, to be
free from angles, This is all that from the whole
tenor of what had preceded, I could mean to
assert, when [ said it was “ im a great measure
free from angles.” I ought indeed to have said,
as 1 meant, comparatively, and Mr. Knight
might very fairly have attacked the words as they
stand, had he at the same time fairly stated, what
he could not but have known to be my meaning:

ec 2

388

but he has adopted a mode of warfare to which he
seems very partial, and of which & shail hereafter
have occasion to produce a still more striking
example—that of inferring from one careless or
imaccurate expression, a fundamental error in.
judgment, and a whole train of false and absurd
ideas. Speaking of the temple, “ Instead of
being free from angles,” says he, “ every thing is
composed of angles: the entablature consists of
angles projectmg beyond each other: the soffit of
angles indented within each other: the capitals
are clusters of angles, obtuse in the abacus, and
acute in the foliage; while the columns being
fluted, exhibit circles of angles round every shaft,
and stand upon a basement surrounded by a cor-
nice composed chiefly of angular mouldings.”—
If it could be believed, that after having stated
that from the nature of architecture angles must
perpetually occur; and after having mentioned
that this particular temple was surrounded by
columns, I still could conceive it to be positively,
not comparatively free from angles, I should cer-
tainly have deserved the sarcasm of my friend,
without the compliment by which it is softened :
for I should have shewn that I was “ deprived even
of the ordinary powers of perception by the fasci-
nations of a favourite system.” But, on the other
hand, if no one can believe that having mentioned
the columns, I could not be ignorant that their
capitals, and the entablature they supported, could

389

not be free free from angles, it may perhaps be
thought that some kind of fascination must have
deprived my friend’s mind of its usual discernment,
or he would never have entered into so scientific
a detail of angles in the soffit, angles in the aba-
cus, some acute, some obtuse, some indented,
but, after all, much as they usually are in such
places. Could he indeed have made it appear
that columus are unusual in ancient temples, that
the capitals of those of the temple of Tivoli, as
well as its entablature, were more angular than
any others, and that the building had altogether
a more angular appearance—he would have shewn
what would have been very closely to his point,
instead of employing so much science to inform
us

’ That ships have anehors, and that seas are green !”

There is however one set of angles that must not
be classed with the rest; for though,columns are
seldom if ever without capitals, they are very
commonly without flutes ; and the flutes of those
at the temple of Tivoli encrease, and very consi-
derably, the quantity of angles. Mr. Knight
very justly describes their effect and character by
calling them c7rcles of angles, and as such they
manifestly accord with the circular character of
the shafts, and of the building altogether, more
than those of any other kind. The flutes of co-
Jumns are almost always rounded at top, frequently

590

20 both at top and bottom, but it is a very singular
fact, and one which Mr. Knight would hardly
have omitied mentioning if he had been acquaint-
with it, that both the tops and bottoms of the
flutes mm question, are square. As far as | can
learn, the only example of a similar termination
at both ends, is in a very ancient temple at Pa-
lestrina: it therefore appears probable, that later
architects, from being sensible that such a form
counteracted the circular character of the shaft,
changed it to the oval; the superior beauty and
congruity of which has been established, by its
having been so generally adopted, and never I
believe, in the upper part of the flute, changed
again for the square termination.

As [ have generously made Mr. Knight a pre-
sent of a set of angles with which he appears to
have been unacquainted, 1 may be allowed to
bring into notice another set, usually attached to
columns, and particularly striking from their be-
ing very near the eye, but which do not accom-
pany those of the temple at Tivoli: aad though
I shall give no information to Mr. Knight, who
is well aware of his loss, I perhaps may to several
of his readers, when [ mention that the columns
of the temple at Tivoli have no plinths. It is true
that this circumstance may be inferred from what
he has stated; but as the plain fact is not men-
tioned, his less attentive readers are not likely to

$gi

suspect It, especially as their attention is directed
towards other angles. He says “the columns
being fluted exhibit circles of angles round every
shaft, and stand upon a basement surrounded by
a cornice chiefly composed of angular mouldings.”
L shall not lay any stress on the difference between
the angles of the general basement or pavement
of the colonnade, aud those of each particular
plinth, though not ‘mmaterial, but on another
point of differeace peculiar to the columns
at Tivoli, which appears to me very essen-
tial. It is well known that the colamns of the
old Doric order, are always without bases; but
their shafts are placed on the pavement, in the
same manner as the original of all columns, a ee
sawed Off at the butt, 1s placed on thé ground:
now in those at Tivoli, the’ igwer torus or round
moulding, forms a finishing at the bottom of the
shaft, and rests iminediately ‘on the bottom of
the pavement 5 and it is obvious how much the
circular character must be heightened, wher such
4 moulding, so near the” eye, oceupies the place,
where, in other Corinthian columns, an angular
plinth usually presents itself; and what an im-
pression it must make upon a spectator, who
stands on the pavement, oF on any near station
upon a level with it, gud thence takes a view of
the circle of columns. sega:

“The next point to be considered is the appear-
ance of the temple, in respect to the character of

5902

its structure: that is, whether compared with
other temples, its frame appears to be of a mas-
sy, ora delicate kind. “So far,” says Mr. Knight,
“ from being of a delicate frame, or with little
appearance of strength, it is remarkable for no-
thing more than the compact firmness of its con-
struction, &c.” It is here particularly necessary
to keep in view the nature of the objects of which
we are speaking. Delicacy of frame, by which
Mr. Burke meant to characterize very different
objects, and which is so obviously applicable to
a number of them both natural and artificial, must,
when applied to a temple, which, though compa-
ratively small, is by no means diminutive, and of
course strongly and firmly built, appear imcon-
gruous, if full allowance be not made for the
quality of buildings in general, and unless a com-
parison be made between it and a variety of other
temples. I must admit that it cannot be said of the
temple of Tivoli, even with the utmost degree of
_,allowance and indulgence, that it has “ little ap-
pearance of strength,” but that is Mr. Knight’s
manner of stating the principle, not Mr. Burke’s ;
and as he has on a former occasion omitted some
words altogether, so here he has, indeed, trans-
cribed them right in. his quotation, but altered
them in his statement: Mr. Burke’s words are
“ fifthly, to be of a delicate frame, without any
remarkable appearance of strength:” I hardly

393

need observe what very different ideas the two
expressions convey. It must also be remember-
ed, that the exception is to the appearance, not
the reality of strength, and only to such an ap-
pearance of itas is remarkable ; in other words,
such as exceeds that of most objects of the same
kind. Among natural objects, many derive a
grace and beauty from their manifest want of
strength and firmness, from their suppleness, their
pliancy, and even their inability to support them-
selves; such is the case with vines, houey-suckles
and other climbing plants ; but in a building, how-
ever elegant the design and the proportions, how-
ever liglit and airy the effect, still the masonry
must be firm aud compact, just as in the most
massy structure, where nothing but strength and
durability are thought of. ‘The question therefore
isnot whether the temple of which we are speak-
ing be firmly or solidly constructed; whether it’s
columns be formed of many or few, of Jarge or
small blocks of stone; still less what are its founda-
tions and substructions—but what, when compared
with other temples, is its general appearance and
character. Now I conceive that there are few
forms of buildings more opposite to our notions
of massiness in the appearance, than that ofa
circular tower, surrounded by a circle of columns
detached from it; the greater or less degree of
massivess im the tower itself will make no differ-
ence to the eye; for the appearance of the build-
ing altogether, would in either case be equally

394

light and airy, and, as far as such a term is appli-
cable to such objects, of a delicate frame ; that is,
the opposite of a massy one. Its lightness, airi-
ness, and delicacy, considered in the point of view
J have mentioned, depend on the columns; on
their proportion and arrangement; on the free
space between one column and another; and be-
tween them all and the central tower: but should
you build up the spaces between the columns,
however thin the walls, there would be an end of
every appearance of lightness, airiness, or delicacy
of frame. As to the rock on which the ruin is
placed, and the vast substruction of arches, &c.
on which Mr. Knight lays so much stress, they
seem to me to have about as much to do with the
character of the building itself, considered as @
beautiful piece ef architecture, as piles would
have had, if they had been necessary for the foun-
dation.

The comparative smallness of the temple is
now to be taken into consideration. “ Compared
with the Pantheon, or the temple of Peace,”
says Mr. Knight, “it was certainly small; but
compared with any edifice of similar plan (the
proper object of comparison) it was by no means
so; for though smaller in diameter than that of
the same goddess at Rome, it appears to have
been altogether a larger, more massive, and more
considerable building, than that, or any of the
kind known.” The most material part of what
has iugt been quoted, is contained between the
hooks—(‘ the proper object of comparison”’)—

395

for on those words the whole argument depends ;
it is not indeed the usual place for words of cou-
sequence; but as the assertion they contain is,
to say the least, very questionable, it might per-
haps be thought more likely tu pass off, by ap-
pearing to be said merely par parenthese. Now
if in speaking of other objects, I were to say that
Caderidris or Ben-Lomond were comparatively
small mountains, I should mean, and probably be
so understood, when compared with the Alps,
Andes, &c. but Mr. Kuight, im the same spirit
in which he has argued, might say, ‘‘ Compared
with Mont Blanc, or Mount St. Elias, they cer-
tainly are small, but compared with any of the
mountains of Great Britain (the proper object of
comiparison,) they are by no means so; and he
might perhaps discover, that though less lofty
than Snowdon or Ben-Nevis, their swbstructions,
their bases were more considerable, and contained
more solid yards. But in truth, this-restriction of
Mr. Kuight’s, to one set of objects of his own
choosing for his own purpose, which does not
allow the author to know his own intention, and
would therefore on any occasion he very arbitrary,
is on this peculiarly unjust; as it excludes those
objects-of comparison, which, according to the
whole spirit of Mr. Burke’s doctrines, are the
most proper. Mr. Burke has made greatness of
dimension a quality of the sublime, and one,
which when it happens to be united with those of
the beautiful, very much diminishes their effect;
and he of course has made comparative smalluess

596

a principle of beauty: not that beautiful objects
must be diminutive, but small when compared
with those, which from their magnitude alone,
would produce grand and awful impressions. As
therefore Mr. Burke meant to oppose the beauti-
ful to the grand, the proper comparison is be-
tween the temple in question, and those (whatever
be their plan) which from their size and character
are of acknowledged grandeur ; such as the vast
and massy structures of Poestum and Selinus. Let
it, however, be granted that those temples are
objectionable as being square: yet we might pre-
sume that one round temple would be allowed to
be compared with another: by no means: my
opponent is well aware of the danger; for he
admits that compared with the Pantheon, the
temple of Tivoli is small: the object of compa-
yilson must therefore not only be round, but of a
similar plan; and [ rather imagine, though it is not
said in direct terms, dedicated to the same goddess.
As no one is more conversant with the remains of
ancient biildings than Mr. Knight, [ think, after
so very strict a limitation, he should have given
us a list of temples with which he would allow a
comparison'to be made. It will hardly be doubt-
ed that had he been acquainted with any of a
smaller size, and which consequently would have
made that of Tivoli appear large by comparison,
he would not have been backward in naming them;
and therefore I may venture to conclude, that he
did not know of any smaller: as to any decidedly

397

larger, if he did know of them, it was not his
business to produce them, The only temple he
has named is that of Vesta at Rome: and even
that being unfortunately larger in the diameter,
(a very material circumstance in the size of a
round building) he has vaguely alluded to the sub-
structions, arches, and solid basement of the tem-
ple at Tivoli, and says of it, that “it appears to
have been a/together a larger, more massive, and
more considerable building than either that, or
any other of the kind known.” He really seems
to have felt no small embarassment on this point;
and allowing him to have every thing entirely his
own way, I do not see how he can get out of it:
for let all square temples be excluded, because they
are not round: and Jet no round temple be ad-
mitted if not dedieated to Vesta, and of a similar
plan to those that are; im short, let the temple of
Vesta at Rome, the only one he has named, be
the only proper object of comparison; still this
object of comparison chosen by himself, is, as
he himself informs us, larger in diameter than
its rival at Tivoli! how then is the temple at Tivoli
to be proved larger? by means, as I imagine, of
“a projecting point of rock enlarged into a square
area by vast substructions of arches, supporting a
basement of solid stone above forty-five feet in
diameter, and nearly eight feet thick!” but is
all this in the plan of the Roman temple? no
more I believe than the enlarged rock itself: then
either the two temples are not of simuar plans,

398

and therefore, by his own restriction, not proper
objects of comparison, or, as far as the plans are
similar, the Roman temple is, by his own ac-
count, the larger.

I have hitherto endeavoured to shew, that
Mr. Knight’s charges are not well founded:
one mistake however, I must acknowledge.
I had chosen to imagine from the elegant
character of the temple at Tivoli, that the
stone of which it was built must have accorded
with it: but 1 can have no doubt that the material
employed, was the common rough stone of the
country: and the natural inference, which every
one must draw from Mr. Knight’s account of it
is, that the colour and surface of the temple must
always have been the exact reverse of what I had
supposed: for he says, “ the colour is that of the
rough Tiburtine stone, which never could have
been any other than a dingy brown” and_ that
“so far from being smooth, itis . . . . «
built of the most rugged, porous, unequal stone,
ever employed in a highly wrought edifice.” 1
have always been fully sensible of the advantages
I should have received, in having my errors cor-
rected, while only in manuscript, by such a friend
as Mr. Knight, instead of baving them sought for
and attacked, after they had appeared in print, by
such an adversary; on the present occasion, how-
ever, L am not sure whether I may not derive
more advantage from this public hostile attack,

S99

than I should have done from his friendly admo-
nitions in private. The point in discussion is,
how far the qualities which Mr. Burke has as-
cribed to beauty, are applicable to the temple of
Tivoli: and it appears, that the qualities of
smoothness and clearness, never could at any
time have been applicable to the stone of which it
is built, consequently, as far as the stone is con-
cerned, 1 am wrong. But Mr. Burke is not at
all implicated in my mistake, which, inaeed, has
been of singular service to his theory; as Mr,
Knight, in his eagerness to convict me of an
error in point of fact, has unintentionally given his
suffrage and support to the principle, and in a
more satisfactory manner, than he could have done
by the most direct and decisive approbation: for
how cold would any direct praise have been, com-
pared with the contemptuous and indignant tone
in which he speaks of the opposite qualities to
smoothness and clearness! “the colour, which
could never have been any other than a dingy
brown! the most rugged, porous, unequal stone
ever used ina highly wrought edifice!” As my
friend has, on other occasions, dwelt so much on
the charms of roughness and dinginess in the coats
of animals, and the surface of ground, it gives
me great pleasure to think, that I may hencefor-
ward consider him as a zealous advocate for the
principles of smoothness and clearness, wherever
ighly wrought edifices arc concerned.

*

400

But what if it could be shewn, that although
it be true that this rough dingy stone was used in
the construction of the building, yet that the co-
lour and surface of the temple, when complete
and perfect, were as I had supposed them to be!
What, if in addition to) Mr. Knight’s valuable
suffrage, 1 should be able to adduce the highest
possible authority on the present occasion, im
favour of such a colour and surface! no less than
that of the architect of the temple itself! This I
believe [ can do, for there is the strongest reason
to suppose that the whole was originally covered
with stucco, some of it being still remaining on
parts of the building :* and this accounts in a

* I am indebted for this, and for whatever curious information
-is contained in this discussien, to an eminent architect, whose name
would have fully established the accuracy of all his communications:
but I have denied myself the satisfaction I should have had in men-
tioning it, from finding, that although he was unwilling to refuse me
the permission, he would not have granted it without some reluct~
ance. I should on any occasion feel a little jay-like, if I were to
plume myself on borrowed feathers, as if they were my own; and on
this, not alittle ungrateful to the person who so kindly furnished them,
if I did not publickly acknowledge my obligation, although he wishes
not tobe named. If more reasons were wanting for doing, what it.
would be so improper not to do, I may lastly add, what indeed isa
reason of no slight consequence, that instead of offering the whole as.
coming from myself, I now confidently oppose to some points of
Mr. Knight’s attack, the accurate observations, and professional
knowledge and judgment of an architect, who took particular pains
in examining the temple of Tivoli; and whose testimony with regard
to the stucco has peculiar weight, from his haymg, with his ow
hands, taken off a part of it from the shafts of the columns.

401

vety satisfactory manner for what otherwise scer-
ed almost unaccountable, and shews why in so
highly wrought an edifice, the builder employed
without scruple, any hard material that was
nearest at hand.

The difference between Mr. Knight and me ori
this point is singular enough : I guessed, and hap-
pened to be right, that the general surface of the
temple must have been smooth, and the colour
clear: and thence falsely concluded, that such
also was the quality of the stone. He, on the
other hand, knew that the stone must always
have been rough and dingy, and thence, as falsely
concluded, that such likewise must have been the
appearance of the temple, Total ignorance, is
sometimes more lucky than half knowledge.

In the passage relative to the quality of the
stone; which I lately quoted from the Analytical
Jnquiry, [ purposely omitted some words, from
being doubtful of their exact meaning and extent :
the words are “ so far from being smooth, i¢ és
ull over rough with sculpture.” Full forty years
are gone by, since [ saw the temple itself; and it
too plainly appears, that either my observation at
the time, or my recollection since were very de-
fective: butas far as I can now judge from prints
and drawings, the sculpture is in the usual places,
und not in greater quantity than is common in
buildings of the same order and character : if this
be so, “all over rough with sculpture,” it is surely
a very exaggerated expression, made use of for a

Vou. uu. DD

402

very obvious purpose: it might suit some few
specimens of the gothic style, but is totally inap-
plicable to any thing that at all deserves the name
of Grecian architecture.
This is what occurred to me on my own ideas:
I now am enabled to speak more fully and parti-
cularly on the subject; and from the following
account, which I am persuaded may be entirely
depended upon, the reader will judge whether the
sculpture, though of the richest kind, be not even
less, instead of more in quantity, than is usual in
similar buildings. The capitals of the columns
(a very essential feature) are peculiarly ornamented
with large flowers of the lotus, but they are of
fess height, and so likewise is the entablature,
than is common in the Cormthian order. The
rest of the sculpture, with the exception of the
flowers, &c. in the soffit between the columns
and the circular cell, is confined to the frize,
which is superbly adorned with bulls’ heads, pa-
teras, and festoons of fruit and flowers: but the
mouldings of the cornice and the architrave, which
in most of the high finished Roman buildings are
richly carved with beads, echini, foliage, &e. in
this are plain, without any enrichment whatever:
and this plainness, as my judicious informer ob-
“Serves, admirably sets off the richness of the frizeg
What very different ideas the builder of the tem-
ple seems to have had, from those imputed to
him by Mr. Knight! when, instead of making it
all over rough with sculpture, he has left those

403

7
parts absolutely plain, which in so many buildings
are covered with ornaments.

But in order to giye such a relief as may accord
with highly finished sculptural ornaments, the
mere absence of enrichment is not all that is re-
quired: the unenriched parts: must not only be
plain, but of an even surface and: colour; and the
roughness as well as dinginess of the Piburtine stone
so ill accords with them, that if no remains of the
stucco had been found, it might very reasonably
have been conjectured that some covering must
have been employed, aud the circumstance [am
going to. mention would very much have strength-
ened such a conjecture. ‘The walls of the circu-
lar cell or tower are built of rubble, or small
irregular stones roughly put together; and it is
quite incredible that such a coarse piece of work,
could have been suffered to appear amidst stately
columns, and all the splendour of ornament; and
sf that was covered, it is extremely improbable
that the rough dingy stone, though in larger
masses; and more carefully and regflarly worked,
should have been left uncovered in other parts.

Again, the manner ia which these walls were
built, suggests another reflection. Me. Knight,
in speaking of the temple, has laid particular
stress on “ the compact firmness of its construc-
tion, which nothmg but some convulsion of na-
ture, or the mischievous exertions of man, could
have destroyed :” aud now it appears that the
most massive part of it, described by him as “ a

ppg

404,

tower of rough masonry twenty-eight feet in diay
meter,” and which defied every re short of an
earthquake—was built of rubble Whether Mr.
Knight was acquainted with this circumstance 1
do not know: but the expression of “a tower of
rough masonry,” seems happily chosen, as it is
strongly opposed, to the even surface of which I
had spoken, yet gives no intimation of the want of
massiness. The discovery of the rubble stone,
and of the cement with which it was cover ed, acts
as a two-edged sword; and cuts to pieces at one
stroke, all that has been said of the remarkable
massiness and firm compact construction of the
most massy part of the building, and also of the
roughness and dinginess of its general appearance.

T will now end this long. note, which I fear
must have tried the patience of those readers, who
may have had the perseverance to go through with
it: but so strong a censure as that of Mr. Knight,
and so fully detailed, seemed to require a full and
distinct. answer.: L rather hope I have shewn,
»that-améng the numerous errors of which I have
been accused, .one only can. fair ly be laid to my
charge, and, that, solely an errer in point of fact,
not of principle, or of judgment: but, on the
contrary, that the inference to be drawn from the
error, Is strongly in favour of the principle and of
its application. I trust-it has likewise been
shewn, that the rest of the strictures are written
in direct opposition to the manifest intention and
epirit.of the part of my Essay, which has been so

405

severely criticised ; and likewise in defiance of the
restrictions and limitations expressed in the very
page that was quoted, and in the two that immedi-
ately preceded it. A commonreader may certainly,
without being called to account for it, skip over
as many pages as he chooses, and forget those he
has read: but a professed critic, who is likewise
an adversary, has by no means the same privilege:
he must neither skip, nor forget, nor argue as if
he had neither read, nor remembered any thing,
but the passage which he attacks. One of these
cases miist apply to Mr. Knight, and L leave them
to his choice: either he never read the two pages
immediately preceding that which he quoted; or he
forgot their contents ; or, having read and remem-
bered, he chose to pay no sort of regard to them.
T ought perhaps to have been aware, that al-
though an intelligent, attentive, and unprejudiced
reader might keep my restrictions in view, as well
as the general spirit and intention of the author,
yet that such readers are not the most numerous:
an alteration which | have made in the present
edition, will, I trust, render the restrictions less
necessary. In the former one, I had set down
the principles or qualities of the beautiful, as they
were enumerated by themselves in Mr. Burke’s
Inquiry ; in this, I have stated them, as he has;
in another part of his work, recapitulated and
compared, them with those of the sublime. The
principles are, of course, essentially the same :
but from the difference in the manner of express-

406

ing them, and from the different point of view
in which some of them are placed, by being op-
posed to those of the sublime, they are more ap-
plicable to buildings, and the whole, as far as I
can judge, appears in a more clear aud sgtisfac-
tory light.

1. 20. The following note is an extract from the
letter of a friend, admirably qualified both by his
pen and his pencil, to throw light on the whole of
this subject.

“ When I was at Rome, Zucchi, who married
Angelica, was there. He was a great castle-
maker, and his mode of composing them, was to
draw first a bold and varied outline of the rock,
mountain, or eminence upon which his castle was
to stand. He then, with according lines, added
his castle; and you would be surprised to find
how the imagination is assisted by this practice,
and what towers, battlements, and projections
are suggested by it, which would not otherwise
have been thought of. I always observed that
his building was more varied and picturesque, in
exact _proportion to the taste and happiness with
which the foundation-line was struck. How far
it might be serviceable to the architect of a re-
fined building to follow this practice, by taking
the line of the ground on which it was to stand,
by observing what part would be opposed to the
sky only, and what others would ‘be backed and
accompanied by trees, woods, and hills, and lastly
by designing his building according to the shapes

P. 296.

407

those objects might suggest—I know not: but I
am confident that it would be of infinite service
to an architect, whose employer wished his house
to appear like an ancient castle or fortification, or
an irregular picturesque building of any ‘kind.”

l. last. I have alréady stated the principle on
which twisted columns may be objected to; but
in this instance, Raphael would be justified in
having introduced them, even supposing him to
have disapproved of such a style of architecture
on other occasions. There are two antique co-
lumns at Rome, of the same form with those he
has painted, which tradition has ascribed to the
Temple of Solomon: they were in old St. Pe-
ter’s, and are now in some part of the present
church. I believe there is no reason to suppose,
that they ever did belong to the Temple of
Jerusalem: on the contrary, the style of them
is of a much lower age than that of the destruc-
tion of the Temple; but having been long objects
of a sort of veneration, it was natural for Raphael
to introduce them. Perhaps Bernini was influ-
enced in some degree by this consideration (though
he was always very fond of twisting) in applying
that form of column to the Baldaquin of the high
altar of St. Peter’s, where, however, it has a very
good effect: for as the chief objection to twisted
columus is their seeming unfitness to support a
great weight, and as their merit is a look of orna-
ment, they are certainly most proper in things of
mere decoration, where there is little appearance —
of pressure from above.

408

P. 360, I. 21. 1 have remarked in the test, that plain sim
ple goth*-, is almost as great a contradiction as
plain simple enrichment; and the same idea has
occurred to me in looking at the exceilent repre-
sentations of eastern buildings, which within afew
years have been published. In many of those
buildings, the whole taken together, gives a striking
impression of richness and magnificence ; and the
manner in which they generally are raised on a
platform, so as never to appear rising crudely,
and without any preparation from the ground, to-
gether with other circumstances in the arrange-
ment of the parts, may afford useful hints to ar-
chitects of every country: but were all the orna-
ments to be removed, and the naked buildings to
remain, the want of more perfect design and
studied proportion, would be very glaring. Gre-
cian Architecture, on the other hand, admits in-
deed of the richest ornaments, and is beautiful
when so decorated ; but such is the well-studied
proportion and arrangement of its forms, that in
one sense it may be said to be more beautiful
without ornaments. I have sometimes been so
pleased with the effect of great simplicity in
buildings of that style, as to apply to Grecian
architecture in general, what was so happily said
of a beautiful woman—

Induitur formosa est ; exuitur, ipsa forma est.

END OF VOL. II. °

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J. G. Barnard, Printer, Skinuer Street, Londo,

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471 Essays on the picturesque

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